Already...

Luke is two weeks old today.  TWO weeks.  These past fourteen days have been a flurry of doctor's appointments, visitors, nursing sessions, and diaper changes.  It has flown.  Last night after I fed him, I took a moment.  Instead of rushing to swaddle him and lay him in his nap nanny (lifesaver on loan from my brother) so we could get to sleep quickly, I just held him close on my chest and smelled his head.  "HOW are you already two weeks?" I wondered.  He grunted.  I cried.


Unless God has other plans (that include me in an insane asylum), never again will I feel a baby move inside of me.  Never again will I watch myself morph into a house and then give birth.  I won't have to shop in the maternity section any more (praise Jesus.)  I won't grasp David's hand and pray as we witness the first ultrasound, hear a speeding heartbeat, or get to share the news and gender with friends and family.  There will be no more whirlwind hospital stays or fanfare homecomings.  Lest you think I'm suggesting we're not through, let me clarify:  We are.  But that only makes it more sobering.


Already he's lost his umbilical cord stump.  Already he's growing out of his newborn clothes.  Already he's had his first sponge bath, his first outing, and his first professional photo session.  


I know there's a lot left ahead of us.  A LOT.  Obviously.  But if it's anything like the last two weeks have been, it's gonna fly.  And it's gonna be harder to cope with each passing milestone this time around.  Each one of Audrey's was so special because it was all of our firsts.  Each one of Luke's will be special because it's all of our lasts.  And so far, that stings a little bit more.


I'm praying that in the middle of these hectic, crazy days where one hand is holding a book for my toddler and the other is busy nursing a newborn that I can take a moment and soak it up.  These are some of the greatest and toughest and short-lived days of our lives.  In my rush to return to full nights of sleep and life outside of these four walls, I don't want to miss the war stories that make me appreciate earning those stripes.  May the sweet moments linger a little bit longer and be the ones on which we build our memories.