It’s Tuesday, November 4th.
I don’t know who our next president will be, but I do know that our little William is two weeks old.
So far, he has slipped right into this little family’s life without any fuss. He has yet to keep me up at night, nurses day and night like a pro, and is pretty much happy during his few awake hours every day. Two words: wow and awesome.
And so he’s quietly grown into a 9lb8oz baby, already shedding so many of his newborn traits. There’s a little stab in my heart when I look at his face and realize he’s changed (again!) This time around, there’s less time for all-day cuddling; two boys need me now. But I knew it would be like that, different, more elusive. Rather than wish for a first baby experience all over again, I’m reveling in the multiple little hands and arms and cheeks and mouths to hold and kiss. How can I not feel filled to overflowing when I’ve a newborn in my arms, nursing, and a toddler’s arms wrapped around my neck, his head buried in my shoulder?