I’d planned to make this post about how hard this whole parenting slog is.
But, duh, we all know that. All parents know it even more. Taking care of a baby is war. It’s the hardest most physically and mentally demanding kind of work there is. There have been times where I’ve thought there’s no way I’m going to put myself through this again. The lows I experience are super low. But there are some high high highs too. Like, every time I look at this face.
What a face.
When Alex sees me, 9/10 times he smiles this big smile. Sometimes he coos. Sometimes he kicks his little legs. Having the love and trust of this little person and being able to see it so plainly displayed is so rewarding. He doesn’t know how to filter himself or hide his emotions, and isn’t there something so pure and gentle about that?
Today he is five months old. Early on everyone says “it gets better.” But we’ve been experiencing sleep regression, early teething symptoms, a long and persistent cold… It gets rough. Some times I feel like it’s harder now than it was in the beginning. But we’ve had good patches before, and I know there are so many more ahead of me. Would I really make myself miss out on the joy (and there is so much joy) of another baby because of a few (and then some) bad nights?
Not to discount my own struggles, of which there are a lot, but more and more Alex shows us what kind of little person he is. He’s so happy, and strong, and smart. If the payoff for getting to know this guy is some hard nights where Alan and I are switching off rocking and feeding for three hours, well, I’ll take it.
Because when I see this boy my face nearly splits open.