Lucy is almost 4 months old. What? Yes. 4 months.
It would be nice if she had ever slept for longer than about 3 hours. It would be nice if she would sleep off of my body, while not being bounced more often than almost never.
It would be nice if reflux wasn't part of our story. Harbouring hatred isn't really my thing. I hate reflux.
It would be nice if I left the house more often than rarely. I really want to show her the world. And run some errands.
It would be really nice for it to not feel as intense at 4 months as it did at 4 weeks. But it pretty much does.
But do you know what is so much better than nice?
All of those pregnancy fears dissolved the moment I met her. Oh, blessings.
We lived through the scariest step so far.
She's here. And we are together every day. And we are totally rocking it. We are rocking it on three hours of sleep per night. Pyjamas all day. Not getting hair cuts. Accepting lots of help. Hardly ever crying (me, not her). Laughing a lot. Loving each other, and our family... and our friends.
And learning to recognize each other again.
The sadness was more intense than I was prepared for. I looked for her face everywhere when she woke up with a different one - one I hadn't been gazing at for minutes that turn into days since we first met.
I also wasn't prepared for how intensely the new love would take hold. It has been one week and she is rocking the forever smile. And she can hear me! The little noises aren't scaring her as much as they did the first few days and those blue eyes now turn to find me like never before.
Look at her!
Look at her rocking it.
A week makes a really big difference.