Lila is 7 weeks old, and she’s already outgrown her tiniest onesies, which makes my heart twinge a little. I can already tell that it’s true what they say- it goes so quickly.
I find that everytime I spend time with family and friends, they look me straight in the eye, and ask, very very seriously, “How are you doing? How are you adjusting?” The truth is, I’m doing great. I feel like I’ve got away with murder- an easy pregnancy, a relatively easy birth (Lila was breech; I had a scheduled c-section after we spent weeks trying everything to turn her), and a healthy, trouble-free baby. I’m genuinely happy, and doing really well, which is fortunate. I know that’s not true for every new mom.
The days feel really small now- hours slip by so quickly, and I eat most of meals over Lila while she is nursing (yes, my baby has crumbs on her). But I conciously choose to focus on the best parts of my day, like dancing around the kitchen with Lila to music to calm her fussy periods, the way she feels snuggled up in my arms, her hilarious and ever-changing facial expressions, her sweet baby coos, her supercute parade of onesies. Don’t get me wrong- Lila stubbornly resists sleep like it’s her mission in life, and does not get anywhere neear the 14-18 hours total in a 24 hour time frame, not by a long shot. She also thinks baths and diaper changes are torture, and must be met with heavy screaming. But I don’t dwell on any of the challenges. Sure, fatigue is part of it, but I can remember loads of times in years past where I stayed up late on a worknight to see a concert, catch a midnight movie, etc. I knew I’d be tired the next day, but the experience was worth it. I feel the same way about Lila- yup, I’m tired, but man, is it ever worth it.