I keep thinking I need to write, I need to write about something, anything, besides this beautiful little child on my lap. You're an intelligent woman, I tell myself. Surely you have something to say beyond the ramblings of a love-struck mother.
But I don't. Not yet, anyway.
One day I'll come out of this baby fog. I'll remember that I am a person in my own right, someone with my own thoughts and interests. I'll stop being so distracted. I'll be more conscientious when it comes to my other responsibilities. I can't blame it on exhaustion or a slow recovery or adjusting to three kids. This is all I can offer you by way of explanation, complete and utter infatuation.
For now, though, I'm giving myself permission to be entirely lost in her.
She's growing so fast, you see. I swear, I can almost watch it happen. Each diaper change, she's a little bit bigger; each morning, she's a little more alert. Her tiny newborn legs are already filling out. The smallest of her sleepers will soon be packed away.
I sit down at the keyboard to write and all I can write about is her. I wake up in the morning and find myself still curled protectively around her. When she naps in bed instead of on my lap or in a sling, I don't know what to do with myself after a while. I begin wandering aimlessly through the house, tidying things here, sorting things there, until she wakes up and I can have her in my arms again.
I am completely captivated.
And I know, hormones and biology and they're made to draw you in and all that stuff, but that's okay. I'll raise a glass of oxytocin and prolactin to toast her Creator, because she truly is a masterpiece.
I hope you'll forgive me, then, for writing about little else during these early weeks. One day I'll talk about our official entrance into the world of homeschooling. I'll share what's been cooking in my kitchen, forming on my needles, or playing on my laptop. I'll swoon over my fabulously creative boy and my ridiculously sweet toddler ("You are the one I love," he told me earlier today). I'll share the beauty of revelations discovered as I come to know more deeply this God who sings over His children. All of it, more, it will come in time.
For now, though, I'm all wrapped up in this little one. I'll tell you about how very precious she looks sleeping on my husband's chest (and how very very sexy my husband looks with a baby sleeping on his chest), how unbelievably soft her skin is, how dark her beautiful eyes are. I'll be slow - forgive me - in replying to your emails and tending to my to-do list. I'm simply busy taking her in, taking in every moment of this too-soon-gone newborn season.
Because tomorrow she'll be walking and the next day she might be walking down the aisle, just like that.
I don't want to spend that day wishing I'd held her more.