I love and hate the young baby stage.
I love it so much for the cuddles, the coos, the smiles, the innocence, the precious expressions, the snuggling up and nursing, getting to know this huge soul and personality all squeezed into a teensie weensie body, feeling so important and needed, gazing in awe at this tiny creation who's gazing back in awe at their mum, learning so much about God and love and what's important in life. I love discovering this little person who I've loved for 9 months before I even knew who they were.
I love diaper changes, bath times, baby skin folds, baby fragrances, being puked on, being peed on, rubbing baby's skin, being up with baby in the night, baby burps - so satisfying, carrying baby around with pride, feeling their little hands curl around my finger and hold on so tight like they're saying "don't let me go mummy", talking to them, singing to them, watching them sleep, watching them make funny faces or kick their legs and shake their arms and open their eyes all big and wide.
I love just about every single thing about these precious hours and days and weeks and months...
Except one thing. The fear.
Glenn's passed the milestone. Heather died at 10 weeks and 3 days old. Glenn is 11 weeks now. He's made it. But I know he's still very much in the peek risk time for SIDS. I pray every day, countless times, that God will let me raise him, that He won't take him home early.
I put him to bed at night and my stomache starts to churn as my fears come to the surface again. I involuntarily play scenarios in my head and try to erase them or focus on something different. But I can't hide from the fear. It's here, it's valid and it's so hard to get through. It takes over.
Don't get me wrong, I trust God and believe that whatever happens, He'll see me through. I know He will, as He did before. But I'm selfish and don't want to just get through. I want my boy, and I want to keep him for a while. The thought of anything alternative is too much to bare.
He's my everything. He's perfect, he's special, he loves me, he's so peaceful and content and smiley, the girls adore him so much. He's such a part of our family now, I can't remember what it was like before him.
I felt the same fear with Kaya, Lana and Zoe and I got through those months. With Kaya it was the worse. So strong, and we were a mess. But we got through, and now she's 6 and thriving. My friend Dawn told me back then, "yes sometimes bad things happen to good people, but don't forget, often GOOD things happen to good people". It was like I had forgotten that tragedy doesn't always just strike and that sometimes life goes on as normal and babies grow into kids who grow into adults. And watching Kaya go from milestone to milestone has been so healing for me.
In a way I just look forward to Glenn reaching some more milestones and getting to the point where I don't wake up 20+ times a night with my heart racing while I check if he's breathing. I look forward to him being a robust 2 year old, full of energy and spirit and life, so I don't have to worry about how I could possibly go on if I ever have to go through such loss again.
But by then he'd be older, and I wouldn't have these beautiful baby days to experience anymore. And I know I'll miss it. Because I love babies so much. I love babyhood. I love these early baby days and weeks and months. I just hate the fear.