November 5, 2014

note to self

People say it gets easier but I'm pretty sure that's a lie.

It never gets easier, you just get used to it, kind of--except for when you don't. Except for when you feel like crying for days or just walking out the door without looking back, without even closing it behind you. You're not bad for thinking it, I promise. Because you didn't do it. (That would be bad, if actually you did it. But you didn't.) You're still here. And your baby loves you more than the sun. And you'll get used to that, too. This baby that will grow up and get big and strong and hairy where he once was soft and smooth, and yet will still be your tiny sweet baby standing there, always, if you just squint your eyes a little. He will grow up and never be able to grasp, not quite, how much you have done for him. World without end, amen.

But these are the easy days, really. I'm sorry. I know you're too tired to hear that. I won't tell you to enjoy every moment; just try not to ever hate it. It will all be over soon. So soon, too soon. This too shall pass and your memory, that kind and helpful friend, will soften these days and make them not only palatable, but sweet. Meanwhile: You are doing a really good job.

Now for the love of god, go take a nap.

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