Maybe past posts have made it apparent that I’m a sentimental person, but I think I try my best not to show it outwardly. I find it easier to put sentiments in writing which is part of the reason I started this blog. It helps me savor E’s time as a baby and record what he was like at different stages.
I already feel like tiny details are slipping away from me, like how he used to startle at every sound while he slept, or uncontrollably chew on his little fists when hungry. My husband and I already reminisce about his just home from the hospital cry (“elaaah! elaaah! elaaah!”) like it was years ago, but we also look forward to each new ability, accomplishment, and smile.
I know that we’ll savor each stage, but babyhood seems so fleeting, and recently I find myself turning this poem over in my head when I have a quiet moment with E. Because it’s true, babies don’t keep. But as long as they do, we hold them close, smell their wispy hair, lift them over our heads, and cover them in kisses. ♡
“The cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
For children grow up, as I’ve learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust go to sleep.
I’m rocking my baby and babies don’t keep.”
Song for a Fifth Child
by Ruth Hulburt Hamilton