Soaking in the seconds

Everyone told me how fast time would go when the tiny human came out. Those last few weeks of pregnancy take place in the slowest time imaginable, like a slow motion montage of chubby ankles and empty bottles of antacid. Particularly the days after the due date... when I thought she could come at literally any moment. Time taunted me, waiting and waiting while I was desperate to meet my daughter.

And then she was born.

Immediately I wanted to bathe in every single moment. Even the hard ones. Even the middle of the night I haven't slept for more than an hour straight in a week moments. Even those. I grasped at them because I knew how they would disappear.

I clutched the beautiful ones even tighter. The smiles and giggles. How she recently has decided that looming toward my face with her mouth open must be what a kiss is, because that's what she sees me do. About a thousand times a day, I think about how fast the seconds are flipping by. And I have to stop myself from walking into her room, waking her up from her very hard-fought nap, and just snuggling her. Because she is a little piece of perfect and I want to hold onto these days forever.

It makes me teary eyed to know that no matter how hard I want time to slow down, to stop so I can just be here, holding her and experiencing every second, it won't. Time marches forward. My little human is heading toward 5 months old at the end of this week. July is almost gone. I've turned from 28 to 29. And time just keeps going.

But I suppose I should give time a little credit, because it is bringing me new things. More kisses and giggles and standing and teeth and squeals and squeaks and squirms. Time will bring me something new tomorrow, so I may as well hold on tight and soak in every joyful, drooly second.

 

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