Who knew loving a child was so bittersweet? Oh, right--all the other parents in the world. All those people who told me to "cherish every moment--it goes so fast."
I'll admit it. I was annoyed by this advice. I wanted to say that my child's life is not a movie from which I cannot get up to go to the bathroom for fear I might miss the best part. I felt so much guilt and pressure and was so tired and overwhelmed that to expect one more thing of myself just seemed like overkill. Anyway, you can't make yourself cherish anything. I imagined myself staring bug-eyed at another poopy explosion, "taking it all in", cherishing every cheesy, yellow smear.
I fell head-over-heels in love with my newborn. He was wee, too small even for his newborn clothes and hats, and barely peered out of his swollen red eyes. He spent most of his time curled in a little ball in my arms or on my chest, sleeping, sucking, perhaps feebly trying to lift and turn his head. I held him for hours upon hours.
He grew and he changed. Soon he could lift his head a little, and kicked and squirmed a little faster and with more force. Nursing was his happy place, and he would nurse with eyes closed, so close to me. I called him my "bugaboo". I loved that Bugaboo so much.
He grew and he changed. He loved to move, to stand (with help). He started smiling, a sly tiny smile that grew into a toothless, tongue-filled grin. He could sit--sort of, doubled over at the stomach in a way that seemed the opposite of comfortable. He became a pro at rolling over. I loved my strong boy.
Now he's six months old. He's so different than he was at any of these other ages. I love my smart, fun, energetic baby boy. Nursing is often more of a wrestling match from which I emerge scratched, pinched, and with aching arms. He only nurses well anymore when he is sleepy. Any other time he sucks distractedly, dying to get back to exploring the world, which fascinates him. He fully interacts with me now, holding little "conversations". I'm almost positive he's trying to say mama. Just today, clear as a bell he gave me a distinct "ah-ah". No consonants yet, stay tuned. Co-sleeping is a thing of the past. The minute he realizes I'm next to him he wants to wake up and play or chatter. He thinks the dog is hilarious and giggles anytime I say "woof". I love him so much.
He's not the same baby he was. I fell in love with a newborn, and that newborn is gone--forever, just as if he's dead. I fell in love with a two-month-old; he's gone too. And this phase, this sweet six-month-old baby? He'll be gone too; I'll have a new person to love, but he won't be the same.
So now every night as a soothe him to sleep, I mourn the passing of another day.
