A month in moments

I will remember this month, the first month of your life, not as a linear narrative, but in the moments and glimpses of our new life together.

The astringent smell of hand sanitizer and the honeyed smell of baby shampoo, the homey smells of bacon and blueberry pancakes, simmered orange peels and cinnamon sticks. 

The impossibly tiny curl of your newborn feet and the velvety smoothness of your little bald head.

The soft silhouette of your little swaddled form, nestled close to my body, two little dark eyes blinking through the night up at me as I nurse you in bed, next to my heart.

The sweet sounds of your sister, using Quiet Voices, to ask me if you are sleeping, and to ask permission to give you the gentlest of hugs. The equally sweet sounds of your grunts and soft breathing in your bassinet next to us, these past 30 nights.

This sweet, fleeting time has already marked so much growth for our family. You came to us as predicted, just 50 minutes into your due date, and you have already joined us on our many small adventures.  Our daily walks to Big Sister’s school, the park, and around the neighborhood.  Your mama’s adjustment to being a new mama again; her cries as she relearned how to nurse, held fervent whispered discussions with your daddy about your care, and figuring out how to hold you just right so that you would feel most secure. The many  visits of our blessed friends, eager to lay eyes on yours and feel your weight in their arms. 

I wonder if these parts of your new life will become part of you, somewhere deep within the reaches of your soul, if not remembered consciously, at least integrated into your being, so that you feel comforted by those homey smells and the sounds of your sweet sister’s voice in all the months and years to come.