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It will change

It will change

A Baby Bubble is a weird thing. As a mom stuck on the inside for almost a year now, I finally understand it. (Well, as much as my Baby Brain can understand. Anyone seen my car keys? Oh, they’re in the freezer? Thanks.) You see, The Bubble runs on its own time—Baby Time. For the...

Tonilyn0521A Baby Bubble is a weird thing. As a mom stuck on the inside for almost a year now, I finally understand it. (Well, as much as my Baby Brain can understand. Anyone seen my car keys? Oh, they’re in the freezer? Thanks.) You see, The Bubble runs on its own time—Baby Time. For the first three months especially, there were days I’d want to cry along with my newborn because I was so overwhelmed. That’s when a more experienced mom would tell me, “Don’t worry, it will change.” And this is what I found to be the strangest part of The Baby Bubble—it feels like change will never come. While stuck in that Newborn Bubble, I couldn’t even imagine what a whole year would look like. Now that I am coming out on the other side, I can honestly say they were right. It will change. And it does.
For the first three months, the nights terrified me. My baby screamed like he was living in King’s Landing and was just invited to a wedding. It was heart breaking. I’d walk around, I’d bounce, I’d sway, I’d sing, I’d do Rip Taylor impressions—anything to lull him to sleep. I was exhausted and nervous, and it seemed like his cries would never end. And then, suddenly, around three months, they did. It changed.
I remember the ride home from the hospital. The car seat looked like it had been made for a giant baby instead of my tiny bundle of joy. As I stared at his tiny body, I noticed the car seat label placed proudly near the top of the headrest. I thought one day his head will reach that, and I tried to picture a bigger version of this tiny body. I couldn’t. It changed.
There was spit-up everywhere. E and I had more costume changes than Lady Gaga. (Yes, I recycled that joke. I do what I can for the environment.) His stomach was so sensitive. “How is he going to digest anything other than breast milk for the rest of his life?” I remember thinking as I now watch him pick up a banana from the table. It changed.
I now believe those wiser mothers that came before me—it does change. As I approach this first birthday of his, I can still see the tiny little baby face staring at me from a bigger little baby face, and I try to envision that changing. And that’s when I stop myself. That bigger baby face will change soon enough, so right now I will enjoy this little face staring up at me—because it just keeps changing.

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