Postpartum | Week 8

As I prepare to share this it has in fact been 8 months, not weeks, since my baby was born. That time has looked very much unlike anything I anticipated. So while I had every intention to journal about my postpartum journey here my entries didn’t make it further than the notes in my phone.

I’m happy to have put many of these thoughts to digital paper because I can still share them here. Looking back at week 8 postpartum my thoughts were..

“My memory undocumented, dies with me.”

I’m ready to shed the weight once necessary to sustain your unborn life. Yet I’m tearful in mere consideration of forgetting the weight of your little body pressed against mine in search of comfort.

Please know, so long as I walk in this life I will be your home.

On the heels of every long night I wish away is the dawn of a day closer to the one where you no longer need me.

My knuckles are white with desperation for these early years to linger a while longer than they’re guaranteed to. Try as I might I can’t let go.

Of hope. Specifically of the hope I will somehow drink in enough of you each day. Enough to sustain me as I look back on these moments and bring me confidently to the edge of satisfaction. In having paused, seen, held, or breathed in enough of you.

Enough you..

I’m certain such a reality doesn’t exist. I could steep in time with you and it wouldn’t be enough. I’ll always crave more.

More of you. More smiles. More firsts. More pictures. More little whispers..