Playful Rooted

Time.

While you were still inside me, and I was so scared all the time, every day — every hour — seemed to take forever. It went on and on and on. It was grueling, unbearable, for months.

And now, with you here? Time is a jet engine, going faster than I could even imagine.

Four weeks. Four weeks! You’ve been here in the world with us for four weeks. It’s still incredibly surreal. Am I dreaming?

Four weeks of snuggling you, finally out of my womb and in my arms instead. So, so much better, baby girl.

Four weeks of changing the sheets multiple times every single day on your crib, the co-sleeper, and our bed. Not to mention the rest of the laundry we’re doing every day. So much leaking milk. So much baby poop. SO MUCH SPIT UP.

Four weeks of worryworryworryworry. Is your head shape okay? Are we using the best diaper cream? Are you spitting up so much because of something in my diet? Are you sleeping too much? Are you getting enough tummy time? I think I’m more worried about newborn you than I was about newborn Luca, and that’s saying a lot.

Four weeks of joy and relief tinged with grief and mourning for everything that was stolen from me while I carried you inside. The peace and excitement and happy anticipation I missed out on. Four weeks of indignation about the fear I shouldn’t have had to face, the decisions I shouldn’t have had to make, the information I wasn’t ready for. Four weeks of “it’s complicated.”

Four weeks of rubbing my cheek against the top of your head, feeling your soft, fuzzy hair. Four weeks of drinking in your precious newborn smell, that inimitable, intoxicating scent.

Four weeks of getting to know each other, learning the new contours of our bodies. We’ve both changed so much in four weeks. You’re getting bigger, I’m getting smaller, we’re both getting stronger.

Four weeks of YOU. My beloved. My one and only. My precious girl.

Here’s to a million more.

xo!