One Month Old

Today my second boy is four weeks old.

Can you believe a month has gone by? I can’t. While he’s still itty-bitty and new, I am very conscious of the time slipping through the hourglass right now. They grow so fast. We all know it, but it’s never been more true than in the first year with your baby. I clutch desperately at it, trying to hold onto whatever little scrap of the here and now that I can, but time marches on without me. I capture pictures, probably even more than the average parent, I take video, and I focus my eyes on this little one and try to will my brain to remember it all. His smell, his sweet sounds, the feel of his small body curled on my chest, his tiny fingers grasping at my skin…but I know that there is only so much my brain can hold. I want to bottle him up, every ounce of his sweetness, to pull it out later and just bask in it, but I know I can’t, and that is what makes this time so special. It is precious and fleeting. Each day brings changes and growth, which is beautiful and bittersweet.

At one month old, we have still hardly heard this baby cry. He has cried out, sure, but to actually cry the way most babies do–to make more than an occasional sound–he doesn’t really do that. I’m not sure if it’s all his personality, or the fact that, as a second-time-arond mom, I don’t leave him much of a reason to. When he does cry out, Jacob will exclaim “oh mommy! Did you know he could get that mad!?” because he’s just such a calm little baby. He has smiled at me twice, which of course is fantastic. He is growing and filling out each day. I can start to see that his limbs and face have become rounder. Born at 7 lb, 7 oz, he now weighs 11 pounds! He has the softest, fluffiest, downy hair, and it comes to a swirl on the back of his head. He still likes to be folded tightly with his knees close to his belly, and lays on my chest like a little frog. When I pick him up from the carseat or pull him from my ring sling he comes all folded up and scrunchy in that delectable way that newborns do. He makes the sweetest noises: squeaks that sound fake in their cuteness, skittery little noises I can’t describe, and contented sighs. He smells like milk and heaven. Oh how I adore staring into his sweet eyes and touching his soft skin. If this is my time capsule of this stage, I hope as I read this one day I can remember those sounds, that smell, the weight of his tiny body, the way his little hands grasp at my neck when I bring him up to my shoulder. I hope as I read this I hear his squeaks and sighs. I hope I never forget.

I love you, Jackson!
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