One week ago today, my water was two hours away from breaking.
The days are long and difficult, but my heart is so very full. Eating lunch over Eleanor, curled up on a Boppy Pillow around my waist. Her little unfocused, blue eyes popping open in dim light and quietly studying the room. The velvety soft skin, the one-two stiff kicks of the little legs during a diaper change, the slouchy sleep face when buckled into a carseat.
I love newborn babies.
My throat closes and my eyes well up with tears thinking about how fleeting these moments are. How precious they were to me with Abigail. How incredibly blessed I am that I get to have them all over again. Good flashbacks.
It has almost been one week. The incredible birth experience, the euphoric first few hours after her birth. I wish I could go back and re-live them over and over again. And I know that this week, this first week of life with its intense periods of constant nursing, unwillingness to be held by anyone other than mommy, and inability to tell night from day, is one that I will very much miss.
I am trying very, very hard to enjoy all these little moments in these very tumultuous days. The big sister kisses and shared parental looks of love are the scenes I want filling my head when I am old and gray.