One Month In
Our sweet boy is one month old. I'm not a person who finds every month to be monumental, but arriving at four weeks is truly something to celebrate. Something to marvel at. Something that in those first few hazy days seems to be a lifetime away. There were sleepless nights, as promised. There were nights I talked to the pediatrician more than I talked to the Lord. Nights I spent the hours he was asleep watching to see that his chest rose and fell with every breath. Nights where my confidence was shattered and patience tested. He lost his voice screaming through his first bath (the water was too warm). He wet his whole outfit every time he peed (his diapers were too small). He broke out in a rash nearly every time he ate (I needed to give up dairy) and yet somehow, with all of our shortcomings, he is still ours . He still reaches his teeny arms and giant hands up for us to rescue him, still trusts that I will always feed him and hold him until he's resting peacefully enough to