I was thinking today about something I’ve written about before. These little newborns. This stage of utter newness is just almost ridiculously fleeting. Everything about it – the bowed legs that so easily still curl into a ball up next to their diaper, the slight fuzz on the tips of their ears and on their shoulders, their floppiness and the way they just scrunch and mold into you, their skin all red and warm and soft, their puffy eyelids (I LOVE the puffy under eyelids of newborns!), the way they will sleep whenever you want to nap so long as you let them fall asleep next to you nursing. Even their smell and sounds and that unmistakably newborn cry. I’ve thought before that maybe it is such a tiny speck of time that they exist this way simply because it is sacred. They do feel all swathed in heaven, and the not-quite-rational emotions that accompany this time – while many of them are overwhelming – seem to lend our souls an ability to recognize things beyond mortal logic more easily. They way it races away, I think, doesn’t allow us the chance to wave any part of them existing away as common place or to feel anything is ordinary about it. About them.
I have been more than usual in awe at the “miracle” of it all. I just keep thinking how nine months ago this body was nothing more than a rapidly dividing ball of cells. How is it really possible for our genes – our DNA – to truly get it right? To move those cells about and direct their placement and instruct them each to specialize in such a way that I have grown in me, in such a short time, this perfect body! With toes, and skin, and eyes, and a heart, perfect tiny lips, and muscles all connected properly to bones, and blood vessels, and kidneys, and fingernails and the tiny bones of the inner ear. It’s just astounding to me! I can’t get over it.
I wish this time wouldn’t fly by so fast. Though, as it does, I must admit, it’s always OK because each new thing compensates so well – smiles and coos and holding toys and laughing. It’s just never wanting to lose the very moment I am in. Which, I suppose, in general is good for me to think on – to enjoy the moment I am in (because it is here and it is miraculous), but not to fret so much about the fact that it is soon going to change because new joys keep coming. Still. This phase? Right now? For these very few weeks? It’s hard. And wild. And amazing. And truly it feels sacred.