If you chase two rabbits, both will escape.
- Unknown Author
- Unknown Author
This has been the story of my life the past few weeks. I've written about it on here before, and thankfully things have slowed down quite a bit since that morning when I drove off without my daughter.
Sadly, I realized the other day that Little W is 6 months old. Six months. Half of her first year of life has already passed me by. The time when she will change the most, grow the most, has already happened. It went so quickly, and I don't feel like I really got the chance to enjoy it.
I desperately want to roll the clock back and trade all those stupid PTA meetings and events for more time with her. All the waisted hours making phone calls instead of just sitting and enjoying nursing her or just holding her.
I knew it would go fast. I knew I wouldn't remember everything, and yet, I still didn't manage to find the time to take more pictures or videos of her. Other than a few very dark pictures from the day she was born, I really don't have any pictures of her and I together as a newborn.
I feel pretty lucky that this time around I've managed to hold the PPD at bay, but I find myself wondering if it isn't starting to creep in. I also wonder if my heart is trying to talk my brain into a third baby, something that just isn't in the cards.
I think I'm having such a hard time with Little W growing up because I know that she will be the last baby I nurse, the last baby I snuggle and coo to that is just mine. Someday I'll have grandbabies (probably), but that's different.
I had difficulty coming to terms with my pregnancy when I was carrying Little W. I found myself wishing everything away. I was so busy worrying about how it was all going to work out that I missed out on the joy. I didn't take the time to just stop and enjoy the feeling of life growing inside me. Now I look back and think, "What I wouldn't give to have just one more day of my pregnancy back."
This is all new emotional ground for me. With The Angry Midget, I didn't have all these regrets, I didn't have the sense of loss as she grew older. For a long time I planned to have more children, and I figured that if I missed something, there was always the next one. I think some of that might have been the PPD talking. It made it hard for me to connect with The Angry Midget, and it made it really hard to feel anything in general.
Now I know that this is my last shot, and I don't want to miss anything.
But I've already missed six months.
Sadly, I realized the other day that Little W is 6 months old. Six months. Half of her first year of life has already passed me by. The time when she will change the most, grow the most, has already happened. It went so quickly, and I don't feel like I really got the chance to enjoy it.
I desperately want to roll the clock back and trade all those stupid PTA meetings and events for more time with her. All the waisted hours making phone calls instead of just sitting and enjoying nursing her or just holding her.
I knew it would go fast. I knew I wouldn't remember everything, and yet, I still didn't manage to find the time to take more pictures or videos of her. Other than a few very dark pictures from the day she was born, I really don't have any pictures of her and I together as a newborn.
I feel pretty lucky that this time around I've managed to hold the PPD at bay, but I find myself wondering if it isn't starting to creep in. I also wonder if my heart is trying to talk my brain into a third baby, something that just isn't in the cards.
I think I'm having such a hard time with Little W growing up because I know that she will be the last baby I nurse, the last baby I snuggle and coo to that is just mine. Someday I'll have grandbabies (probably), but that's different.
I had difficulty coming to terms with my pregnancy when I was carrying Little W. I found myself wishing everything away. I was so busy worrying about how it was all going to work out that I missed out on the joy. I didn't take the time to just stop and enjoy the feeling of life growing inside me. Now I look back and think, "What I wouldn't give to have just one more day of my pregnancy back."
This is all new emotional ground for me. With The Angry Midget, I didn't have all these regrets, I didn't have the sense of loss as she grew older. For a long time I planned to have more children, and I figured that if I missed something, there was always the next one. I think some of that might have been the PPD talking. It made it hard for me to connect with The Angry Midget, and it made it really hard to feel anything in general.
Now I know that this is my last shot, and I don't want to miss anything.
But I've already missed six months.
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