This little dude arrived last week, more or less on time, which felt quite late to this summer-hating mama.
We’re all doing well — better than I expected, to be honest — as we navigate through and to our new normal.
These first couple months are my least favorite phase of motherhood. My body aches in too many places; I’m not getting enough rest; the feeding and the burping and the diaper-changing and the helping-to-sleep are endless, thankless jobs.
But there is this baby, so sweet and small. His softness. His vulnerability. His tongue fluttering as he searches for milk. His eyes blinking as he learns to see the world. His fingers curling around mine out of instinct, and maybe even trust. The rise and fall of his chest. His funny little mewls.
Sometimes the tiniest things have the mightiest force. Sometimes the hardest things are the most worthwhile.