It's funny, I felt so sane and present the first few weeks after we brought Rosie home, and swore my memories would be crystal clear, but now it's already all a blur. I cannot believe my sweet little newborn is going to be 6 weeks old tomorrow. The past two weeks, she's been much more awake and alert, she gains more head control every day, she's tracking with her eyes and thinking about reaching for things with her hands, and she's even rolled over once! I swear I got some intentional smiles in the first two weeks, but I can tell we are really close to seeing some social smiles now, and I can't wait.
In the meantime, I don't know how to handle the 6 week milestone. This is probably further exacerbated by the fact that I'm pretty sure sister is pushing 12 pounds already. She doesn't look like a newborn! The passage of time is always so bittersweet. The first few weeks, I just love telling people, "oh, she's 2... 3... 4 weeks old" when they ask. Those first few golden weeks pass like pearls threaded on a chain. So perfect and unique and individual. But then around weeks 5 and 6, they start to blur together. Time speeds up. And as much as it makes me want to cry, I know that in no time, the weeks will be scattered around me like beads spilling onto the floor. Each one rich with history, but in a hurry to pile on top of each other in a chaotic mess.
I was so intentional about my postpartum experience this time, which is another post on its own. But I'd seen so much about really protecting the first 40 days and making recovery a priority. I did really well for the first 3 weeks. Less well for the second three weeks. And now that the 40 days have passed, now what?
I feel like the world was ready for me to be back on my feet by 2-3 weeks. For the most part, I was able to avoid that temptation, but now it's harder to say no. I see two lactation clients this week because we desperately need the money for all of our hospital bills. I'm feeling silly turning down playdate invitations, even while I worry about my friendships moving on without me. While I struggle to grasp the fleeting days of babyhood, the world spins on and I'm starting to get overwhelmed!
So I sit here trying to burn present scenes into my memory: the way Rosie's eyes flutter as she's falling asleep. The delicious rolls on her legs. The little routine we have where she cluster feeds at 5, 6:30, and 8pm and then sleeps until 2:30am, and then goes back to sleep until brother's morning shenanigans cause her to stir. Her sweet little smell. The way she stretches when she first wakes up. The way she trusts me implicitly. The way Noah reports: sister's crying, sister's bless-you-ing (sneezing), sister's hungry again!
Every day I fail in a million ways, but I hope my babies always know how much I love them, how intensely I want to be present for their early days, and how much I need Jesus to fill in the gaps when I fail to meet my own expectations.