In their tinyness …

I have written before about how quickly C is growing up.
(Doesn’t every Mom lament about that, really?
But it never gets old, does it?)
I know I felt the same way with D, but it feels so much … MORE this time, you know? I’m twice as busy! I have two babies to savour instead of just one, and I feel pangs of guilt that she rarely has 100% of my attention, the way D did.
When I hold her deliciously squishy little body, I feel my brain frantically trying to memorize everything about her.
She is a nom-able squishy thing, with rolls upon rolls.
Her skin is impossibly soft, but you can see sturdy muscles beneath it.
Her hands are teeny tiny carbon copies of mine, right down to the crooked pinkies.
She is rocking a mullet and a bald patch, and her hair frizzes in the humidity.
When she widens her eyes, she looks just like me as a baby.
Every day, she gets stronger and more alert. She has been holding her head up shockingly well since we were in the hospital (whaaaa?) and already she holds her entire body upright if you hang onto her hips. I keep telling her to SLOW DOWN OMG, because REALLY? I was promised a teensy baby, and you have not been teensy nearly long enough yet!
I don’t know if it’s because C might be our last baby, or if it’s just the usual “oh-the-grow-up-so-quickly-why-can’t-time-stand-still” routine …
… but oh, how I am trying to hold onto her tinyness.
It feels like a thousand years ago that D was this small, and really it was less than two years ago. I keep thinking that in less than a year, she will be a toddler. Once they are a toddler, time seems to slow down a bit again, and I don’t get as panicky. D has changed in the last year, but NOT EVEN CLOSE to how dramatically he changed in his first year.
My mind feels like a mental camera, and I sometimes swear I can hear it snapping away, willing itself to remember it all.
I saw this collage of close-up baby photos on Pinterest today, and was overcome with the need to write this post.

It’s the perfect reminder that my brain can’t remember it all, and it won’t.

All I can do is take pictures.

And write blog posts.

And jot down the milestones.

And breathe them in every time I hug them and kiss them, in the hopes that my heart never forgets how it feels at this exact moment, to love them like this.

In their tinyness.

So what do you think?

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