Time is flying…sorta.

When my son was first born, a 5 lb premie, with a 6 day stay in the NICU, people said enjoy it, it goes quickly. When he was colicky and would not sleep except with me, enjoy it. He’ll be grown before you know it. Teething, not so much on the enjoy it, but it will pass. Quickly. I laughed. The days dragged on, one the same as the next. I was guilty of hiding my pain and depression behind a myriad of drugs, meant to keep me from hurting myself. Again. I ignored the joys of my son, because I was full of pity for myself. I hated the fact that MY life was over. I’m slowly coming out of this fog of depression. I realize how much I missed. His first smile, I can’t remember it, even though he smiles at me daily. His first time of rolling over, now he crawls and cruises on furniture. I can’t remember what his first baby food was, or what his reaction was. Now he eats whatever I’m eating. Mostly. His first cries, now he knows Mama, Dada, Bob (bottle), kiki (kitty), and boo (poo). I hate that I’ve missed his little time. He’s 11 months old, and I barely remember his first year other than my own pain. So yeah, time flew. I’m praying I keep making it out of this haze and become a better mom. One who is involved. Who can brag about his little accomplishments. Like last night, his Aunt taught him to high five. I never thought of that. But he grins and holds his hand up for yet another five. And that’s good enough for me today.


~ by wanderingmusician on June 19, 2011.

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