Friday, May 22, 2015

Oh, little one.

I go to bed almost fully dressed. Because I am tired and the little one sleeps. She might wake up in 15 minutes. She might wake up in 2 hours. She will likely do this a few times, giving me plenty of opportunity to brush my teeth, slip into PJs and "settle in" for bed later tonight. She is only 72 hours old. So very little.

My normally too long to count "to do list" has vanished. My routines, gone. My expectations for the day, a mere memory. With such an amazing, needy, tender, lovable new little one, all that's needed is now. I could literally sit, with her on my chest all day, and listen to those tiny breaths from her tiny nose, frequently interrupted by those tiny squeaks. She is really squeaky, Matt thinks she swallowed a dog's chew toy. As I feed her, I don't even notice right away, but her miniature yet so long and slender fingers have wrapped around mine. We are holding hands.
I have no plans for tomorrow. I accomplished nothing today. And I'm fine with it. I wish all of life could feel this way. Seems so simple. But only for such a brief time am I allowed to do nothing but love and care for my sweet, new, little one. Soon, I will have to begin coaching her on the ways of life. She will want more than to quietly gaze into my eyes. I will need to get back to caring for those other 4, much older, and probably, in a lot of ways, much needier humans that I also call my children. 

I try to recapture this amazing feeling in words. In photos. But, as it did with the four prior, the feeling will eventually slip away. I will remember that I love newborns. That seeing her awake, asleep, peaceful, crying, hungry, full, and every other emotion or state of a brand new little one can be enough to set off tears. Tears of absolute amazement. Joy. Tenderness. Sadness at the moments passing too quickly. And the most painful, swelling, about to burst, simply cannot keep it inside LOVE that you will ever, ever, ever experience.
Oh, little one. You make me the happiest, most complete person. Each, and every time. I love you, Diana.

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