amazingness

I know every parent is blown away by the amazingness of their child. There is something absolutely indescribable about how amazing our children are. I find myself watching Elliott sometimes, absolutely breathless, thinking about when I first realized I was pregnant, and then looking at this PERSON, this thinking, talking, energetic, exhausting and equally exhilarating person.

I watch him scarf down little pieces of pork chop, dripping with bright red ketchup, leaving behind a little bare canyon down the middle of the larger ketchup blob I squirted on his plate and think about how through my entire pregnancy I couldn't stomach pork. Couldn't even look at it without my skin suddenly feeling clammy, my stomach turning flips. Months of no pork in my life. And here is that very baby, scarfing it down with delight.

The day of the birth, I fully believe, is not only a day of birthing your child, but of a mother birthing herself as a mother, birthing a father, birthing a family. Elliott's day arrived 10 weeks earlier than expected, although I had, deep down, been expecting an early baby.

He cried immediately after his little body slid out of mine, his strong little lungs letting everyone around him know what I already knew, he was strong, healthy, and while skinny, was going to be just fine. The little baby who had been torturing my cervix for a month, kicking it incessantly, would never let me, or anyone, forget his presence and what he thought of it.

He'd had so much room to move, so much amniotic fluid that I blew off people's rude comments about my HUGE belly by telling them I was growing the next Michael Phelps; The baby was getting early training. I now watch that strong three-year-old body swim and wiggle, bob up and down during his weekly swimming class and during our weekly fun swim time. His little body exuberantly diving, twisting and kicking. It's like seeing what was happening inside my belly those months.

I look forward to watching him grow, to watch and listen as his opinions and ideas form and develop. Each developmental stage is bittersweet, so exciting to see him accomplish something new and cool, but at the same time, so sad to say goodbye to what has kept him a baby during these early years.

When he drifts off to sleep, I often kiss his cheeks over and over so I can feel his soft baby skin and feel the springiness of his sweet cheeks spring against my lips. I know it won't be forever that his skin will feel that way or that his sweaty hair will smell so good. It won't be forever that he'll seek out my body at night, snuggling right up against me, curling up perfectly against me as we lay chest to chest.

I'm concentrating on drinking it in, holding onto those moments because I know soon enough it will go away and it won't come back and we'll be on our way to another amazing stage.