It’s funny how thirty days can fly by and yet seem to be a lifetime.
A month can go by like the blink of an eye. Ask any kid dreading the end of summer vacation, or a mother closing in on Christmas. Thirty days, not a lot of time it is.
We’ve only known Bean for a little over a month now, thirty-two days actually. (We met under some pretty awkward circumstances – I mean, she fell out of me.) (Sorry, I couldn’t resist.) We are still getting to know her, figure out her routine, her preferences, the way to hold her like a drug and she’s out for the count, the way one set of toes curls under and the other spreads like butter every time she nurses. Stacked up against my other child, having the last six years of constant learning and laughing and falling in love, one month is, alas, a drop in the bucket.
And at the same time, the days before June 5 have fallen away. I can’t imagine our lives without her, without these past thirty days of trial-and-error and life on a whim.
She’s so new, yet already so permanently and irrevocably part of my identity and daily life.
It took nine months to grow her, and just a fraction of that to be completely conquered by her.
Happy one-month, Bean. Just so you know, you own us all already.