138 days ago I looked into the eyes of my son for the first time. He was a few seconds old. The youngest he will ever be. The moment you meet your first child is feeling unique from all others. It is a moment that changes your life. A moment, which changes YOU. It is a moment you will only experience once. I remember, in this moment, being so in love and so incredibly terrified at the same time. The center of my world was in my arms. My life’s focus was narrowed in on those big, dark eyes. Everything else around me stopped. Everyone else disappeared. I was caught between the strongest desire of wanting him to cry so I knew he was ok, and dreading the moment of hearing his cries of unease. It felt as though minutes passed at the speed hours. I looked around the room, begging someone to help him to cry. All I could do was stroke his soft face and pray that he was Ok. Pray that I would get to look into those big, dark eyes everyday for the rest of my life. 90 seconds passed. And then, there it was. The first cry. Well, more of a high-pitched squeal. A squeal that is now so “Luca”. My heart could have exploded right there in that moment. And I knew, it would break everyday for the rest of my life as I yearn powerlessly to protect this sweet baby from any pain. Any fear. Any discomfort. 138 days ago I heard my baby cry for the first time. He was a couple minutes old.
Babies grow. And they grow quickly. They grow out of their clothes. They grow out of their shoes. They grow out of their chairs. Their toys. Their beds… It is so beautiful and somehow sad all at once.
Today is the only day he will look at you this way. The only day he will play with his toy this way. Tomorrow he will discover a new way to play or develop an obsession with a new toy altogether. He will be facinated by the light coming through the window today. He will wake up, stretching his arms out of his swaddle this way, only today. He will only be this big, this old, today. As I watch him, I am overwhelmed with the desire to be present, to remember. Today he is this small. The only day he is this small.
Delay your Facebook update, put down your phone, take it all it. Stare into his eyes and watch the way he stares into yours. Hold onto his soft hand and observe the way he clings to yours. Nuzzle your nose into his neck and smell that sweet baby smell, because tomorrow he will be 139 days old.
Note: I found this “unfinished entry” from March 11 that I never posted. Today is July 18. Revisiting this post, more than four months later, so much has changed, but the feelings are the same. Motherhood flies by. The days are long, but the years are short. A lot has changed since March 11. A lot will surely change in the four months ahead. Although there are days where I long for nap time so I can take a shower, or nights I yearn for bedtime so I can have a quiet moment alone with Timi, I wouldn’t change the hours I have with Luca for anything. I will continue to stare at him as he discovers new toys and develops new skills, I will continue to soak in the way his soft skin feels next to mine as I he holds my hand in the car. I will continue to memorize the sound of his breath while he sleeps. I will continue to challenge myself to be present in this moment. Because today is the only day he is this small. Today he is 267 days old.