I breathe you in. Every single inch of you. You are soft and smooth and small and lovely and I can't get enough of you. My baby boy.
And they all keep telling me, “It goes by so fast.” And what do I say to that? I look at them with my tired eyes and disheveled hair and I nod and give a little smile, but really I don't know. I have no idea. Because for me, the "it" (you know, the one that goes so fast) is still my present. It's my life. It's all I know right now. And some days go as slow as molasses.
But that saying is so true: The days are long but the years are short. Yes, I can see how it does go by so fast.
Credit: Philippe Put
So I pick you up in my arms. I rock you back and forth. I let you fall asleep on my chest, against all of the expert's advice. There is so much advice out there, too. But it all contradicts itself, doesn’t it? And really, who cares what they say? Who are "they" anyway? These experts can tell me to put you in your crib awake. They can tell me to stop rocking you, to never nurse you to sleep, to leave you to cry for hours on end. Those experts sure like to tell me what to do.
But they don't know me. They don't know my baby. I guess no one told them that it goes by so fast.
So I'm going to rock you and nurse you to sleep and hold you close to me. Because they say one day you won't be this little, this precious, this completely dependent being. One day I won't be able to pick you up and hold you close and cradle you. One day you won't fit in my arms. One day you'll be grown and I'll be the one telling the young naive woman to hold on to these moments just a little bit longer. One day I'll be the one telling her that it goes by so fast. And she'll look at me, with her tired eyes and disheveled hair, and she'll nod and give me that familiar unsure smile.
So if anyone needs me, I'll be holding my baby, as much as I can. Because you know what they say: It all goes by so fast. I’m just at the beginning of this journey of motherhood, and yet, it’s already going by so fast.
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