Saturday, February 01, 2014

I am pretty sure that this is my last child. I think. And I keep looking down at Maya and thinking that this is going to be the last time I get to experience these newborn days, and it makes me sad. Sadder than I could have imagined when I had my first baby, back when newborns terrified me and there were would be many nights where I'd just sit in the livingroom at 3 am for the 18th night in a row where I am at a loss at how to get her to go back to sleep or, at the very least, to stop crying. Those nights brought many frustrated tears. I could not wait for my baby to grow up.

Being a mother for the third time is a different feeling altogether. I no longer dread the nights. Her crying doesn't send my blood pressure through the roof or twist tension into my upper back. Changing diapers is not annoying anymore. Instead, every moment lies a sweetness that I have learned to savour and for this personality that is driven by the to-do list, this is a big badge of personal growth for me.

These early days are so precious and I really just want to hang on them, but obviously it's just not possible. Life just keeps marching forward. So happy that at the very least my sister is up for capturing the little details of my baby's tiny body so that I can look back at the way she was -- and at the same time remember the time that I became the mother that finally felt ready.

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