If I could have newborn Liam again for one more day I know with certainty what I wouldn't be doing or worrying about.... I wouldn't care if I stayed in my pajamas all day, if I showered or even brushed my hair. I wouldn't care if the laundry was touched or if the sink was full of dishes. I wouldn't care about emails, Facebook or what was going on with social media and the world in general.
I'd only have eyes and attention for this baby who will only be a tiny little baby for a tiny little while. I'd study his every feature, movement, and sound. I'd allow my fingers to trace his tiny hands, fingers, toes, and nose just one more time. I'd breath in the newness and be still. This is easy to imagine in hindsight without the fog of sleeplessness, postpartum depression, or healing from a c-section.
The thing with babies is as soon as you think you've got everything figured out, they change. As soon as you've memorized them just the way they are, they grow. Those mental notes that don't get inked in some fashion can get forgotten because the next day brings all new experiences and memories.
In the daily grind I fight to find time, to MAKE time, to document this little life, but try I must. Some days there is simply no energy left at the end of the day to pick up a journal or open the computer and write. When I think the weight of motherhood will surely be the end of me, I tell myself this too shall pass, and I'll miss this season just as I miss the littleness when looking at pictures that are just a couple of months old. My heart aches at how fast he has changed.
I don't want to rush any season. I don't want to wait for the next time around to fuss less and be still. I guess this is motherhood. Trying to cherish and document the days with a mixture of joy and sorrow in our hearts. The days are deceiving because we gauge the pace at which life is moving by them, and in parenthood they are long. But the years? Oh the years, they will be short.
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