But children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby. Babies don’t keep.
~Ruth Hulburt Hamilton
Today, we celebrate the past thirty-one days. Thirty-one days of bliss. Thirty-one days of tears. Thirty-one days since you were born. Thirty-one days since my life changed forever. Thirty-one days that flew by so fast, I fear that the next thirty-one years will pass in the blink of an eye.
Last night, I sat in your nursery & rocked you, even though you had been passed-out with the bliss of being milk-drunk for 30 minutes & even though your father was begging me to come to bed. But I rocked you because I could…because you are still so dependent & wee that you curl into my neck, little baby whimpers & snores that I so longed to hear. I rocked you, because I know that it brings you “home,” as it does for me. I rocked you, because I fear that far too soon, you will struggle to get down. I rocked you those extra minutes, because I waited an entire year to do so.
I rocked you, even though I had a load of laundry, waiting to be flipped over. A blog that sits neglected on the internet, void of much true posting in the past month. A dog that begs to be walked, & a husband that needs to be kissed. I rocked you, memorizing the lines on your little face, even though I can see the dustbunnies under my china cabinet. I bent down & kissed your cheek, inhaling that sweet post-bath baby smell. I laughed at the way your lower lip stuck out in a full pout. & I know that at this time in my life, I’ve never been more thrilled to have a filthy house, bills that are stacked on the kitchen table, & dinner that is often not made until 9pm.
Because last night, I rocked you, soaking you in & knowing that you can’t stay this little forever.
How is it that I am already packing away newborn sleepers & pants, re-arranging drawers to make room for 3-month clothing? Have you already grown so much that we’ve doubled the amount of formula you drink every bottle? Has it really been a month since the first time I heard your little “uh-huh uh-huh” cry, or kissed your platinum Donald Trump hair?
I thought back to my hopes & expectations while I carried you & I asked myself — has it been everything I dreamed of? It has been better & more than ever expected. & I look forward to the new hopes & expectations that I have for you as you grow. So grow, Harrison. Grow, even though I cling to you & your newborn sleepers, wishing I could keep you this little forever. Even while I rock you longer, knowing that babies don’t keep.
I love you forever.
Harrison, 1 month.