by tracybanaszynski

One day you look up and realize that your baby doesn’t spit up much anymore. He still does occasionally, yes, but not near as often as he used to. When did that change? One month ago? Two?

You’re not sure, but you suddenly miss that baby. It’s not the spitting up you miss, although you had grown quite accustomed to and comfortable with always being covered in spit up. It’s the other things about that baby – the way he always rested his heavy head on your shoulder when you held him. The easy way you could flip him around to nurse at the second breast. The way you had to support his head and neck when you sat him up to burp him. The way he raised his arms, as if in salute, while you patted and straightened his back to help him burp. The deep ferociousness of those burps when they finally came. The deep slate blue of his newborn eyes.

You feel nostalgic already for the not so distant past. You revisit it, but you don’t stay too long, because time doesn’t stop. And you don’t want to miss the baby you have right now.

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