Our three other babies have taught us that babies don't keep. While it feels like I couldn't possibly forget the details of these early days of bonding, I'm surprised at how the memories blur with time. I can still vividly remember our first moments with Evangeline, but Jude and Indigo's newborn days are already becoming a little hazy. This is why I see cameras as an amazing gift. These snapshots, little frozen slices of time that will never reoccur, become more enduring.
So, I find myself here again, trying to cement these moments into my memory forever.
The way that Iris squeaks when she sleeps, small hands clasped together.
Or how her feet press against me while she sleeps in the crook of my arm. I can't resist stroking her tiny toes.
Her hair is so downy soft, her skin so velvety.
I love the way she looks up at me in the middle of the night with her big saucer eyes. She's so quiet yet so awake. We rock, she and I, during those dark, quiet hours. I cherish this time alone together.
I love wearing her in my wrap, the way she curls up as if still in the womb. Almost always, she is instantly quieted, calm. As long as she is with me, she's happy.
Then there's that distinctive newborn cry of hers. It's so loud and robust for such a little one.
Iris, when not in arms.
Dan says newborns are a force to be reckoned with. They can keep us up most of the night. They cry and we come quickly. They require us to be flexible, to go with the flow. Rigid plans or highly structured schedules? Forget it!
But we couldn't be more smitten with our newborn. And these snapshots? Well, I hold them close to my heart.