I just can’t help it.
My arms are itching to snuggle one close to me.
My ear is twitching to hear one breathing softly in my ear while curled up in a little ball on my shoulder.
I want to feel that velvety soft wrinkly skin with that hint of softer than soft downy fuzz covering it.
I want to drink in that perfect smell they have.
I want to look into those newborn eyes and wonder at what they’re remembering.
I want to watch those little newborn stretches.
I love the sounds they make when they’re eating.
I love the satisfied, limp, drunken state they get in when they’re done.
I love those teeny feet.
I love nighttime feedings…alone with them bathed in the dim light coming from the cracked open closet, snuggling them close.
Yes, I could go hold someone else’s baby, and yes, every newborn is amazing. Holding other newborns helps.
But the problem is that it’s not the same with someone else’s baby.
It’s just different when it’s MY baby…part of me. It gives me that feeling that I can almost feel my own heart beating in that tiny chest because I’m so in love.
Don’t worry honey, I know we’re done. I know that it’s exactly what’s right for us to have five kids and to stop there. I know that we’ve got our hands more than full and that it’s going to take more work than we ever can even realize to raise these kids how we want to, and to spread ourselves thin enough for all their needs. And yes, I’m totally loving their older selves just as much as I loved those newborn stages.