It shows me pictures from January of this year, and my baby is so tiny wrapped up snug in a blanket. He's still colicky in the pictures and I am just beginning a journey of exhaustion that will never end. Oh how I reminisce.
Fast forward (very fast) to an approaching new year and he's so different. He's grown so much, and I'm thankful for that. I'm so thankful that he's growing and healthy, but where did the time go? In the midst of studying, working and crying, I lost those sweet tiny baby times. I didn't appreciate them enough.
I'm really trying to stop worrying so much about Connor sleeping with us and still nursing. I don't want to look back and these times be so far gone that I can only access them through a silly app.
I watch him sleeping, his mouth cracked open and this complete peace on his face, and my heart just keeps growing. It never stops.
He's becoming his own person now and developing his own mischievous personality. It makes me laugh, cry and want to pull my hair, all within a few seconds of each other.
I wonder about when he gets older, when he won't need me, let's be real, or want me all the time, and I'm just not sure how I can deal with that.
Freedom will be nice, won't it? I think it will.
But it's nice having this little person think so much of you that he just wants to touch you and be at your side all the time.
I think parenthood is this constant conflict of emotions. It's like your mind just goes back and forth constantly between wanting to have a minute to yourself and then loving those random break-ins while you're showering.
It's playing peek-a-boo for a split second of him hiding, but loving that adorable smile and belly laugh when he comes back up to see you.
Loving this much isn't something that can be written. It isn't something that can be told. It's just felt and that's it. You can't even compare it to someone, because your mind doesn't know how to put it into words.
It's funny how that works. There are beautiful and magnificent novels written, full of words and ideas, but something so common is inexplicable.
I've heard that it's not instinctual for mothers to love their young. I guess that's true when you think about it, because how can you really love someone you don't even know?
But then again, when this tiny, tiny human looks up at you with eyes full of curiosity and confusion, and you are the only person in the entire world who can make him feel like everything is OK, how can you not love him?
I think people probably get tired of me gushing about how much I love this kid, but every day it changes. Every hour, something new happens and my heart isn't the same as it was the previous hour, or even minute.
So Lauren, what's the point in this post?
I have no idea.
Just like I have no idea what I'm doing. I have no clue how to be a mother. But Connor doesn't care. All he wants is to know that when everything is changing and he's constantly learning new things, he can look for me and I'll be there, cheering him on.
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