It seems like year have passed since I gave birth to our first child and son. Yet it was only 10 weeks ago. Nothing could truly prepare me for the magnitude of responsibility of taking care of a child. When I hold him in my arms, as he gazes so freely at me, I realize that I am responsible for his life. I still don't fully acknowledge that I am a mother, and it might not even sink in until he can call me "Momma". One thing that I know is that he's the best thing I have ever done. I delight in his smiles and laughs. Every coo and kick bring my heart joy. I pray that it will always be this way.
The things that I will probably forget are all of the burping and vomiting that leads to spit-up running down my back. The ill-timed farts that are just as funny as smelly. That laundry isn't as simple when you have to remove the "poop juice" or it'll leave permanent stains. Lugging around the bulky carrier, everywhere we go. Never seeing the inside of a nice restaurant or movie theater. But most of all, feeling as if this is the beginning of being old.
If life with children is a journey, than I am determined to take it one poopy diaper at a time.
The things that I will probably forget are all of the burping and vomiting that leads to spit-up running down my back. The ill-timed farts that are just as funny as smelly. That laundry isn't as simple when you have to remove the "poop juice" or it'll leave permanent stains. Lugging around the bulky carrier, everywhere we go. Never seeing the inside of a nice restaurant or movie theater. But most of all, feeling as if this is the beginning of being old.
If life with children is a journey, than I am determined to take it one poopy diaper at a time.
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