Where Has the Time Gone?

Little Man is now almost 11 weeks old -- I can't even believe it as I type the words.  After thankfully receiving word we were able to come home, Husband and I made the long drive the day before our anniversary.  Tired and anxious, we eagerly stumbled through the door with Little Man to introduce him to the cat...who sniffed him for a long time before starting to hiss.  An inauspicious start, to be sure.

The ensuing weeks were the hardest weeks of my life.  Five days after we came home Husband left for military duty.  My parents also left for a long overdue visit to my sister.  I was suddenly all alone with a small human who consumed every minute of my life.  The exhaustion was overwhelming, to the point I had to move him to his crib and listen to him cry while he got acclimated.  Showering, eating, drinking water, or even using the restroom was a luxury.  I arranged for a different friend to stop by each day until my parents were home and able to come daily, but it was still a blur.  I cried every day -- sometimes multiple times a day.  I wondered if I could do this, panicked that I had made a mistake thinking I could be a mother.  I dearly missed our old life and mourned what used to be.

However, things slowly got better.  With my parents to help I was able to take much-needed naps.  Little Man started to actually sleep for a couple of hours at a time in his crib at night.  Thanks to some advice from the vet the cat started to come around.  Husband's return inched closer until the day he finally walked back through the door.  This time the tears were of relief and pride -- I had done this.  It nearly broke me, but I made it out the other side.  Melodramatic perhaps, but those who have survived the newborn phase would agree.

Husband being home didn't immediately fix everything, but we are starting to see real differences.  Little Man sleeps longer stretches at night, and he is slowly learning to nap in the crib during the day instead of in our arms.  We actually find ways to eat real dinners and not snacks or takeout.  Rosa drags her toys up to the nursery, and when he cries at night and we don't seemingly move fast enough she will let us know. He now smiles, which sweetly lights up his whole face and makes us laugh with delight.  He is getting physically stronger, and what he lacks in long sleeps or weight (he is gaining well, but still small for his age) he makes up for by learning to roll from his belly to his back early or gripping his favorite rattle.  It's still not easy; the two days and nights following his first set of shots were awful, and a good night of sleep can be followed by a disastrous one for no discernible reason.  Thankfully, though, we are starting to find a rhythm.  We still talk of what was and what may never be again, but when he smiles or laughs we also start to see what can and will be.  Husband recently attended a formal army dinner, and he spent the night showing off pictures with pride rather than dwelling on the difficult.  While I relish the chance to get away for a few hours, even if it's just to go to the eye doctor, it warms my heart to see Little Man smile at me when I return -- especially knowing that he sees me as mama, not just another face.  He is beautiful and confusing and precious and scary.  Best of all, though, is that he is ours.