2005.06.09 - catching my moments of zen -
Today I started missing it, the time I'd spend each night blogging my day's experiences when I was pregnant. And I decided to get just that much less sleep to make it happen again.
So, this weekend I'll add an RSS feed and hook up all the permalinks. And we'll get my memories back on the road.
Here's why: Truman's now 11.5 pounds. That's 50% bigger (give or take) than he was at birth. In just six weeks, my baby has changed from a tiny little thing to someone who can push off my legs with his supercharged Hanson gams. And I don't have enough memories.
I have pictures, and some "surface" blogging. But I like going back and remembering how it felt to be me, at the moment in time of the life of my babe.
So here it is: little feet scratching against your tummy, pushing off your ribs, climbing like a little kitten up closer to your face. The mewling sound he makes, so soft and sweet, like a lamb, but softer and sweeter. The ache in my breasts when I think about him too much. The way I can hold him in my arms and he'll look up at me dimly, brow furrowed, as if he's wondering which alien kidnapped him and brought him here for study. The incomparable milky sweet smell of his skin; how his smell overpowers the artificial smells of the people who hold him (cologne, smoke, and the like) in minutes, and he's back to his precious smell. How Everett, and Anouk, and all three-year-olds come up really close and soft to whisper, "can I kiss her?" and so, so softly kiss his head or his arm, with the tiniest smile. How Everett says, "he's so cute!" in this little-boy high-pitched sweet voice, that makes me want to cry fat tears of amazement at my two cute perfect boys. How I can hold one of his feet in my hand when I'm walking with him in my sling, how I don't want to let it go, how I can't stop "petting" his body with my hand.
And he cries for me, now, and I can't stay. Goodnight.
truman from his mom's eye view, three days old