You're one week old today and I have no idea where this week has gone.
As I type (one handed) I'm holding you in one arm, and you are making little 'arf, arf', noises of content after your feed. Curled beside me in bed Sprocket and Poppet are watching a Friday night movie, as your Daddy is away working at the hospital and won't be home till close to midnight. Fittingly, they're watching the Ice Age movie where the mammoths are having the baby…
I still can't believe how perfect you are.
The way the light catches on your delicate skin, your tiny fingers, the soft squeaky- door noises you make. The way your tongue slowly pokes out when you're hungry, the nose wrinkle followed by the determined lunge at the milk. The incredible softness of your skin and downy hair, and your indescribable sweet-baby smell.
You are increasingly aware, and so often there is a look of wonder in your eyes as you look around.
We have had a very busy week. On Monday we (reluctantly) left the hospital, and it was straight from there to Bunnings then we picked the kids up from school and your brother proudly showed you off to his class. And it seemed like we were only just in the door when your Daddy had to head back to the hospital for an evening shift.
The rest of the week has been just as busy. This morning we were at school all morning for a mother's day event - although I swear I was gypped. I assumed we'd watch a little performance and then have a cup of tea and cakes. Um. No. It was listening to readers, and Jolly Phonics and then playing numbers games. Poppet, who is of the opinion the classroom is her queendom, ran around giving Sprocket massive hugs and tackling him to the ground, giggling and squealing with excitement, and you needed feeding. So while calming Poppet down and feeding you I was trying to pay attention to Sprocket and help him with his letters and numbers. And he is not a boy who likes sitting still. At all. Needless to say, we came home, I fed you, then your Nana took Poppet to the fruit shop while you slept and I passed out… I suspect this is a taste of what your babyhood will be like… multi-tasking is the name of the game.
(O, more milk, little one? Of course. You're welcome.)
And yet, despite the rush, the chaos, this time has its own sweetness. You're part of the family now, Littlest. The days in the hospital, when it was just the two of us, were beautiful, but this time is also precious in all its crazy chaos and cosy domesticity. Of course, your Nana goes home tomorrow so it might all go pear-shaped… but we'll see.
In the days before I went into hospital I eagerly looked out for the first of the changing autumn leaves and now, home again, autumn has arrived in all her glory. I like to think that the vivid golds and oranges, yellows, scarlets, crimsons and pinks have been put out especially to welcome you.
The mists and fogs have also arrived - we drove to school in dense grey this morning, and on waking the windows were silvered with condensation and the grass outside was laced in frost. The nights are cold - 2 degrees and about to get colder and I love it.
I'm so glad that you're an autumn baby and that autumn proper has arrived at the same time as you. Autumn truly is my favourite time of year.
My littlest love, it is so good to have you here. You're every thing I ever dreamt or hoped for in all the months of your growing, and then a million times more.