Today, John has started screaming every time I've tried to transfer him into his crib for a nap. So the last time he fell asleep nursing, I just let him sleep on me for awhile. Which makes it inconvenient to do any of the things I ought to finish before our house guest arrives tomorrow. Still, Joe said to me, enjoy it. Someday he will not fall asleep on me anymore, and he won't fit all curled up in my arms. This time is short.
I don't understand it exactly, but for some reason having a baby has brought me to the realization of my own mortality. It seems kind of depressing to look at it that way though. This is actually just the beginning, not the end! John is our first, and God willing he'll have a house full of little siblings someday. Even if he doesn't, there is so much yet for him to learn and do. Yet I find myself looking at it almost as though it's already over. Maybe it's because it just doesn't seem that long ago since I was a little kid. I remember when I was little and my parents would talk about their childhoods, and that time seemed like an unfathomably long time ago. Now I know it wasn't... to them, childhood wasn't a distant memory, 15 or even 20 years wasn't that long ago. One of my aunts was commenting over the weekend, about how old our grandparents seemed when we were kids. My parents don't seem that old to me, but to John they will. It's part of life.
I'm afraid that even 6 months from I'll forget how little he is now. I already forget how much littler he was when he first came home. I'm afraid of forgetting how sweetly Joe talks to him and plays with him. I'm afraid I won't notice when he stops giving him a little voice (with a Mexican accent, for whatever reason). It's just a little sad to think of packing away all his little 0-3 months outfits because he'll never wear them again. Putting him in his crib at night didn't bother me, but taking the bassinet down might be a little bittersweet. Soon John will be able to do all the things he's practicing right now without thinking. Will I remember the way he has to concentrate on moving his arms to grab for something, and missing once or twice before he gets it? Will I remember his gummy little grin once he has teeth? Will I remember all the adorable sounds he makes?
Lest anyone wonder whether I've got post-partum depression setting in a bit late, I don't think I'd put it that way. Just something about last weekend, watching my younger sister become a married woman, reminded me that life is short and things change fast. Most of the changes are going to be great. How much fun will it be to play with him when he can do more, to hear all the funny things that will all too soon be coming out of his mouth, to introduce him to things I love and watch him discover his own loves and talents. How much fun will it be to make real memories with him, his own memories. I think maybe I have taken it too seriously when everyone has told me to enjoy him while he's small, because it goes by so fast. I'm trying to enjoy every minute that I can, even while I do look forward to seeing what the future has in store.
It's funny how at first I wanted to be so careful with his "Bumbles Bounce" shirt so it would stay nice... then I thought, that's John's shirt. No other baby will be the Bumble. So we've been wearing the heck out of it while it still fits. Which it barely does now. Somehow in just a week he's outgrown his extra-small diaper covers, and I'm thinking that since he'll be 3 months old next week, it might be time to switch to the next size up in clothing. Sniff. Why do they have to grow up so fast?