Love.

I am currently eating my breakfast (at a faster speed than I ever would have pre-Peanut) and thinking about what I should write about. Thinking about how people were right and that life, although certainly difficult at times, was less complicated while pregnant versus after she arrived.

Currently, at three months old, her naps average forty minutes and it's been almost that. I am waiting for her to wake up, both dreading it and looking forward to it.

You see, I've never loved anyone more in my life. She made her grand entrance on September 14th and immediately broke my heart into a million pieces, then put it back together again.

Lately, she's learning that she can use her voice and is babbling and cooing quite a bit, all the while staring into my eyes and smiling.

 She is learning that she can stretch out her tiny body and touch the end of the baby bath we put her in every couple days. 

She is sleeping through the night and yet also shortening her day naps. I'm not sure what I prefer actually-- I love the sleep during the night but now it's hard to get any chores done around the house.

People keep telling me to cherish and treasure these  fleeting moments while she's small, and I know why they do. It is hard having such a tiny thing totally dependent on me. I get scared I'm not doing the right thing, and the thought of  her being sad, hurt, or needy for anything makes my heart break even more (if that is even possible). The sheer amount of time spent meticulously caring for such a creature engulfs most of my time. That kind of responsibility can be draining and cause you to lose sight of the miracle that is laying right in your arms, staring up at you.

And so everyday I try to remember this advice. To not get caught up in the ordinary or stressful and think about the fact that time is going by so fast. I promised I'd never use this cliche, but... It really does seem like we just brought her home from the hospital.