This article was written by the beautiful Rebecca at www.asmamagrows.com and has been republished here with full permission.
Bidding farewell to the fourth trimester is somewhat bittersweet. I’m one of those women who mourn the loss of their bountiful bump, so I empathise with you, my Tiny newcomer, and the enormous transition you have had face.
You yearn for the safety and comfort of the womb. Needing familiarity to feed and sleep and thrive. These first few months are about easing you gently into this life, with its wide open spaces, loud sounds and fluctuating temperature.
There have only been a handful of sleeps where you have not been held tightly against the warmth of another body, gently lulled on your journey to the Land of Nod. You like it there, in the crook of my arm. I breathe you in and sit for a while, before returning to the hustle and bustle of the world of things that need to be done.
But what could possibly be more pressing than this? Right now, nothing.
Right now, our days are spent hibernating. We can be found swathed together. Your knees bent high and tucked up against your chest. Our bodies cocooned by a deliciously soft wrap. Here feels predicable and manageable. I need the surroundings to remain constant while my body and mind recover. It will give you an opportunity to teach me your language. I’m dying to know and learn. I’ll respond with patience, but I need you to lead. Time appears to have stopped, or at least slowed in comparison to the pace of places where the sunlight hits.
Right now, when you’re hungry I feed you. Watching you and not the clock feels right, and it must for you too, as you sure are one blissed out babe. You take what you need. Nothing more. Nothing less. With a brilliant latch and an abundant supply. We’ve got this, you and I.
Right now, I watch you so intently that I may just bore holes in your little body with my eyes. From the tips of your teeny curled toes to your downy shedding hair. Every detail about you is perfection. You smile. You clutch and bat whatever brushes your fingers. You hold your head up with your determination and strength, lapping up your surroundings so as to not miss a beat. You bear weight on your chubby dimpled legs. And, as if that is not enough, you have mastered the roll.
Right now, the days blur into weeks, which blur into months just as quickly. The babymooning daze is over. Just like that. I look at you and see how much you’ve learned. How wonderfully you’ve grown. How much you’ve taught me. How much more there is to come.
And right now? Living and loving and breathing you in. That’s all that matters.