Today baby dear is six weeks. Six weeks! Where does the time go?
Terribly slow when waiting for baby’s arrival.
Slow when watching the clock on the hospital wall.
But somehow, as soon as baby is born, time changes.
The nights are long and quiet, despite the up and down of mom and baby. Yet the mornings come and quickly are gone, giving way to the busyness of the day and all the things that need to be done but are not.
And sometimes, despite all the unconditional love a mother has for her brand new baby and her siblings… sometimes despite all she tries to accomplish and the strength she tries to carry when tired and battling hormones… sometimes a sadness of unknown origin creeps in.
It can be blamed on the fleeting of time. The dishes piled in the sink. The activities planned a day before now lost to the hours passed. Or maybe not really anything at all.
It’s somewhere in all of that that I find myself. Between tears I can’t explain. A heavy heart for a baby I lost seven years ago, even though I now have seven living children. Things I want to do but can’t get done. The watching of a clock I’d now rather curse than read.
The others come in and out as I try to squeeze in a shower…. calm a baby… reminding me of the plans I’d made to take them out for the morning. And even as I fight against them, the tears find their way. I remind myself that these weeks are quiet ones. Slow ones. Ones in which time should not matter. These are precious moments out of time that can never be reclaimed. And I try to remind myself to be grateful for all I have… The rest will be there to worry over another day.