So fast

After Henry died, everything slowed down—my brain, my body, the world. Or maybe the world didn't slow down so much, but I just wasn't much in it. Now everything feels a-whirl. 

Each night I turn off the computer, get into bed and my brain starts writing the things I meant to say here, the email I meant to write to another babylost mama, or my grieving friend, or the women who supported me throughout my pregnancy with Kathleen. I just didn't get to those things throughout the day and if I thought of them at night I thought better of it, for that girl is likely to wake up 2 minutes after I lie down or 20 minutes or 2 hours. And then I will be up settling her or snugging her into bed with me. i will be tired in the morning and she will climb on me, scratch at my face making happy sounds all the while until we get up and begin our day. I will yawn but I will also smile at her laughter. 

She is changing so fast. 

Each day she is different. A new tooth. Pulling a toy off the shelf. Moving, moving, moving. She is not quite crawling yet, but she is so close. She moves herself backward. She sits up, lies down, rotates herself on her bum. She creeps on her belly and gets up on hands and knees. And any moment she will figure out how to move one knee and then one hand and then the other knee and the other hand and she will be off and running.

I packed away more clothes today and pulled out the 9-12 month clothes, the ones that seemed so big, the ones I couldn't imagine her ever wearing. You will forgive this failure of imagination because the last time I looked at 9-12 month clothes they were never worn. 

So big, so fast. 

I want to slow it all down, really capture all this. But the world picks up its pace. There is work and laundry and grocery shopping and cooking dinner. There is an untended garden that needs weeding and final picking. There are friends to visit, outings to take. It is so easy to go out, so we do. 

My world, which for so long was so slow, is swirling faster and faster, and I'm along for the ride. 

Now, to bed that I might be alert to the wonders tomorrow will bring.