We’ve gotten into this rhythm lately, after Wren’s early morning feeding. Brandon rolls out of bed in the groggy dark and heads to the kitchen, and soon after I hear my coffee percolating on the stove. These first few weeks since Wren was born, most mornings he brings it to me in bed. I forgot what a luxury this is, to have coffee brought to me in bed. He doesn’t drink coffee (he usually makes chai tea for himself in the mornings) so it’s extra special when he makes my coffee. And this is how the early mornings have been spent. Savoring how amazing strong hot coffee tastes after a night of interrupted sleep with a newborn, savoring those few quiet moments before the sunlight wakes up the rest of the children. I told Brandon the other day that coffee just didn’t taste right the whole pregnancy, but amazingly, instantly after the baby is born it goes back to tasting amazing. So weird. I’m glad to have this old friend back again.
So yes, we’ve been in the glorious exhausting newborn fog–seriously, the best of days. I have been instagramming way too many baby photos and annoying everyone, I’m sure, but getting to know this new little soul and getting to hold and enjoy her really is what fills up my days lately. Oh, this fourth time around, my perspective is quite different. I’ve found myself enjoying this season far more than I complain about it, knowing truly how fleeting it is and precious. I keep feeling absolutely shocked that I have a seven year old (!!!) and how big Noah is, how I feel like the last couple of years with him transforming from a toddler to a big kid has just flown by without me really savoring it. Everyone says this thing goes by fast, and at the beginning I didn’t really feel like it was true. But suddenly I’m starting to get it. I can’t believe how quickly 7 years of parenting has gone by, what a blink it truly has been, and the fact that those years are behind us and never can we live a day of them again nearly breaks my heart. So, I can’t complain about these newborn days. My arms ache sometimes from holding her, and I’m afraid I’ll spoil her, but I’m holding her as much as I can, as if the holding can somehow slow down time, weigh it down and make it last.
The smell of milky breath. The way newborn skin feels. All the little peach fuzz on her shoulders and back that will disappear soon. The tawny brown hairs I will soon find falling out on her blankets. The milky midnight blue newborn eyes that will soon change. The way she raises her eyebrows with wide open eyes as she focuses on me. Her papery thin little fingers that reach around for mine to hold as she nurses.
Three weeks have gone by in a blur, and I know in a few weeks time I will hardly be able to remember these early days. Brandon’s parents came the first week and his mom stayed to help me when Brandon went back to work. They brought belated Christmas gifts for the kids and they were a huge help. My parents have also been helping when they can, mom bringing me meals and coming some mornings to help with whatever needs to be done. We’ve been trying to get back into a routine a bit this week, with me cooking a bit again, cleaning, and keeping on with school with phoebe. Everything takes longer and is more interrupted than it used to be, but I’m trying to be patient with myself and everyone else, too.