The other day, a woman at the pizza place told us that “all the clichés are true.” Similar to having a puppy, having a baby is a great conversation opener. Her comment stood out to me because the most common one was “the days are long, but the years are short.”

Six or so months into my pregnancy, I felt like I wasn’t really enjoying my pregnancy, and that I was worried that it was just flying by. I didn’t know what it meant really “to enjoy pregnancy”, and after Google-ing it I wasn’t any closer to understanding how I thought I should feel. I felt like I was working a ton, carrying around a watermelon, and was trying to get as much done as possible (both work-wise and baby-wise) before I went on maternity leave. I don’t want to have the same feeling now that he’s out in the world. Here is my attempt to do something different.

Having a newborn has really warped my perspective of time. You been alive for seven weeks, but it feels like you have been here for ever. Days and nights are now just periods of awake time or napping time, and when I’m sitting in bed in almost pure darkness basically falling asleep nursing, there is this unusual feeling of semi-existence. Breastfeeding is a wonderful bonding feeling, with all the baby skin and cuddles, but it also feels like my time is not my own, and neither is my body. My new purpose is to keep you alive and safe.

I’ll confess I get frustrated when I put you down for a nap and you start crying a minute later. Most of the time you want something, so it’s justified, but I also get frustrated at myself for having the wrong expectations. Yet when you do nap for two hours straight like you did today, I was constantly checking the monitor to make sure you were alive and the video was streaming. Is this motherhood? Or my version of it?

Every night in the dark I hold you close, and after you’re done nursing and you’re sleeping in my arms, I have this internal dilemma of whether to change your diaper and wake you up, or let you keep sleeping. You look so peaceful, and sleeping is so rare - I often let you / me / your dad sleep. But I look at you sleeping and <cliché> you look so angelic. I can’t believe how much you’ve grown and so quickly the time as passed. At least once a day I think about how quick it all seems and how big you are. Yet during the day all I can think about is how I had just fed you, and how you’re not sleeping.

When I’m not holding you for an hour, I often forget about you, and then when I see you again I feel that I had missed you. I had missed an hour of your life.

Now that you’re here, I’m trying not to multi-task so much. Slow down and stoke your hair while it’s still baby soft. Clean out your neck rolls while they are still here. Savor bath time while you still fit in the sink. Enjoy the spit up when I can still hold you. Pull out as much mystery lint from between your tiny fingers and toes. Sneak in as many kisses on your chubby cheeks while they are still so squishy.

Your dad just put you to bed - a nap really, and I look forward to hearing your cry, and seeing you in about an hour.

Nope ten minutes.