It’s Been Three Months

It’s been three months.

Three months of round-the-clock feeding and sanitizing pump parts. Three months of explosive diapers and endless laundry. Three months of broken sleep and napless days. Three months of baby-wearing and exhausted joints.

Three long months.

My body is bone tired. My joints ache. And that kink in my neck …

It’s been three long months.

But three months I would never give back.

It’s been three months of baby snuggles and soft skin. Three months of gummy smiles and fits of giggles. Three months of wonder and amazement. Three months of a love so strong my heart hurts.

As a new mom nearly a decade ago, I moved through the first three months with fear and trepidation. I knew not what I was doing. Anxiety plagued my every thought. My every move. I met each new milestone with relief and gratitude – that stage was finally over.

I’m never doing that again, I’d think to myself.

But this time… this time is different.

I know I will never experience this again. I know that this is the last time I’ll be all-consumed by a newborn. I know I’ll never experience the first three months again.

I still meet each new milestone with relief and gratitude, but that relief and gratitude is for having a healthy baby. Not because the stage is over.

Sure, I’m tired. My body still aches. And the to-do list only gets longer.

But if I could keep him little, if I could hold on to these first three months for just a little longer, I would.

With each passing day, he becomes a little more independent, a little more aware of the world around him, a little less interested in snuggling up with mama when there is a world to explore. And I will let go. I will let him fly. I will watch him grow into the spunky little boy I know he will be.

But damn. If I could keep him little. Just a little longer …

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