Wednesday, January 8, 2020

337 Days Later

It's been 337 days since I gave birth to him. 247 days since I've been back to work, and in 28 days, he will be one year old.  Read that again.

Before I even start typing this post, I need to ask you - DO YOU KNOW WHERE THE F%*K THE TIME GOES?  Because I have no clue.  I feel like I just found out I was pregnant, just told my family, friends, and bosses, and was just gearing up to take a sweet 14 weeks off from work to bond with my baby and figure out how to be a mother and a family of 3.  And by now, all of that has already happened, and is over, except the figuring out how to be a mother part - that I'm still learning every day.

I seriously can't wrap my chaotic-nonstop thinking-always in overdrive brain around how fast life moves.  I remember being young and saying to my parents, "god I wish I could drive", "I can't wait to be 18", "UGH WHEN WILL I JUST BE 21??", and the one I still catch myself saying today "is this day over yet?" to which my dad would always reply, "honey, don't wish your life away..."  And although I've pretended to understand what that meant over the last decade or so of adulthood, I never really got it until now.  I also never quite understood what my parents meant when they said "if you think life passes by quickly now, just wait 'til you have kids." Yeah okay, guys, I don't have to worry about that one for a while... Ha.

And here it is, the phrase I always rolled my eyes at in response when people said it - just wait 'til you have kids.  Because here I am, ironically as ever, typing this blog post with a wrist tattooed in my son's birth date, wondering where the last 11 months went, no sooner hearing my Dad's voice in my mind...

Oh yeah, it flew by because now I have a kid.

Seriously though, it's only been a few weeks short of a year, and I already feel like it passed by so quickly that I didn't have a chance to hold on tightly enough to any one moment.  I feel like I can hardly remember the newborn days, spent in the hospital, itching to go home and start our lives with baby Jackson - it feels like a blur.  People are still telling me how sick I got after my C-section, about all the nurses, the blood work, the decisions, the paperwork, and conversations everyone had with me - I can't remember any of it.   But I do remember all the scents - the smell of the elevators and latex gloves and fresh Pampers, the sound of the constant high pitch beeping of the hallways, the way his little ankles and feet felt so dry after being in water for 9 months, the way he looked at me when he and I were the only ones awake at 6am in my hospital room.  I remember the way his hair felt when I first touched it, how small his baby toenails were, and how freaking strong his grip was around my finger.  I remember trying so hard to breastfeed and feeling like a failure because it wasn't working.  I remember kissing his head and being instantly petrified and over protective when anyone, even the doctors, wanted to hold him.  I'm still that way.

...and I'm not sorry for it.  I've spent so much time trying to remember to hold on to each moment and not let it pass by, but like anything else in life, I can't control the clock and I just have to do my best to relish in as much as I can with this sweet baby of mine.  So forgive me if I am a little over protective of him, he'll always be my fragile little bunny - all 27 pounds of him.  Forgive me for not texting you back or not picking up my phone.  I'm busy so much of the time.  And when it's time for him to wind down for the night, he is my priority.  I can't help but want to hold him close and let him sleep on my chest.  So don't make comments about hindering his independence because I help him fall asleep, and please don't judge me for kissing him 1,000 times a day and saying no if you ask to take him from my arms.  Understand that I spent 9 months growing him, and he's finally here, I'm gone for 12 hours a day, 4 days a week, and the time is goddamn flying, and I want him to be as close to me as possible, because one day, I'll want him to sit on my lap and snuggle, but he'll have other plans, and I'm so afraid he's going to look at me and say, "is this day over yet?"

Time, please just slow the hell down.