No sadness

Tomorrow marks Asa's fourth week of life in this big crazy world.

Amelie insists on trying to put her own shoes on and constantly requests mommy and daddy to leave her to do things on her own.

We watched Asher walk the steps of his first graduation, preschool though it may be.

And I don't want to be sad about any of it.

My first impulse is to lament everything we do these days because it is (most likely) the last time we will do newborn things. You know, the last time to hear a baby's first cries, the last time to announce a baby's name, the last time to dress a baby in his going home clothes, everything has a "last."

Every event, every child, every moment is a last in some ways.

But (again I thank Ann Voskamp for figuring out the words for the feelings I'm wanting to capture) I don't want to be sad about any of it.  I don't want to hold on for too long to a preschooler who so belongs in kindergarten. Or to an independent girl who is getting so good at being grown-up.  

The time comes to let the season pass into the next and so as Asa moves into his second month of life, I kiss the teeny tiny newborn diapers goodbye and look with eagerness to the next stage without sadness and lingering for too long.

This day, this moment, I've captured in my mental memory and won't be sad about any of it.

If I held you more

For the past two weeks, I haven't done much of anything besides sit and hold a newborn baby.

I feel guilty about the dirty floors, bedtime routines Walter has done on his own, and my general disregard for the way the rest of the world keeps ticking ahead. Each morning, I vow to stick with my to do list and find something tangible to accomplish.

But then I hold Asa for just a little longer.  A little longer turns into a lot longer and a lot longer turns into an entire morning.

He has the same hypnotic eyes of each of my babies.  They blink at me all blue and adorable while lulling me into a trance of not being able to look away. I want those moments of snuggling to last and last. Even then, in my exhausted trance while I hold a swaddled wrinkly body, my thoughts leap ahead to when this dependent one while drive away from home and walk down the aisle to pledge closer allegiance to someone besides daddy and me. 

I know these days will not last. My moments to cuddle and hold aren't very long. Ann Voskamp's words identified my subconscious thoughts when she asked about her own maturing son, "would it have all slowed down if I held you more?"

"It all goes so fast" is the constant mantra of older mothers and I've seen it myself in a growing five year old. I beam with pride watching his success  but my mind always flicks back to the precious first days when the crazy bustling world didn't matter and I simply held him. 

These days with Asa, I'm sitting, dreaming, soaking in the smell of newborn skin and hoping that it will all slow down if I hold him more.

Happy Mothers Day.
I pray you too take time today to sit. hold. and slow it down.

Mother duck

Oh Mother duck with your five freshly hatched ducklings, why did you want to cross the busy road to the corporate parking lot? 

Were you desperate to find water for them?

Did you know they couldn't survive in the open grassy field of the hospital?

What instinct caused you to lead tiny babies into such danger?

Why is my hormonal mother's mind so reflective on a mommy duck with her ducklings?

Walter turned on the hazards and jumped out of the van to scare the brave duck back into the grass, but really how long would it be until she attempted to cross the busy street again?

These days while my activities consist of simply sitting and bonding with a fresh new baby in my arms, I can't help but think of moms who don't get to sit all day cuddling and caring for their babies. Yes, I do want to go up and down the stairs more than once a day.
Yes, I can't wait to be ok'ed to drive again.
Yes, I'm excited for the time when I can exercise this extra weight away.

But I am thankful for peace in my home.
A caretaking husband who although a bit harsh at times, forces me to fully recover.
Family who does the daily things that need to be done.

Oh mother duck, with your little babies forced to waddle to safety just hours after being born, I don't envy you. Instincts you have, but loving support you need!