Unending

These are long days of nothing and everything.  Of seemingly constant nursing and frequent night wakings.   Of soft, stretchy pants and nursing tank tops.  Of meals dropped off by friends or picked up at fast food joints.  Of a house-husband and a doting big brother.  Of watching a belly visibly flatten overnight.  Of reading, knitting, watching bowl games - just waiting for the next dirty diaper or hungry cry.  Of inopportune leakages (mine and his) and sudden, unexpected weeping spells (mine, not his).  Of going to bed, not knowing how much, if any, sleep we'll get.  Of hoping he sleeps well and eagerly awaiting his next extended waking period - when his eyes seek out the light and search the world.  Of holing up at home, nesting.  Of a very small world, composed of four people and one cat.

Time seems to stand still, and yet it isn't.  Graham was one-week old Monday.  While part of me longs to figure out what the new normal is here, find a new routine, a larger part of me relishes being lost in these days of nothing and everything.  Sunday, as I sorted through a bin of boy clothes, I cried when I held up a 6-month outfit, not wanting this time to pass, but knowing, even as these days seem so very long, that they will pass before I can even catch my breath over the beauty of this child, the miracle of his conception and birth, the wonder of his perfection.

These are long days.  I'm so grateful for every unending, but fleeting second of them.