Today, my lil’ man is 7 weeks old. Man, just MAN! I need to let that sink in for a minute… A mere two months ago the hubs and I were still waiting for our baby to make an appearance in this world. We didn’t know if we were going to have a daughter or a son. We were anxiously waiting to see his or her face for the first time. We were making sure our bags were packed, and I was napping as much as possible! And here we are today: where sleep is a seldom-obtained treasure, breastfeeding is my new hobby, and we can’t remember what life was like without our son. It’s hard to believe that less than a year ago we thought we couldn’t have our own children.
Me, the hubs, and lil’ man. And Gaelic, the big orange cat. Lil’ man isn’t so sure about photos.
God is so good.
As I’m learning about and adjusting to motherhood, I try to pay careful attention to the lessons my newest teacher has for me. I chatter at him through the day to help the language centers of his brain develop (can you believe that at 5 weeks his brain was already learning the cadence of spoken language, and his babbling imitates it as a form of language practice?! Amazing!), and I realize in this endeavor that I have the WHOLE WORLD to describe to him.
I can talk to him about everything, because he has yet to be introduced to most of the world. And, more importantly, the way I introduce him will shape his earliest views on what he encounters. So when I describe a winter’s day, I tell him it’s very cold, crisp, chilly, or even frigid, but I never call it horrible, awful, or terrible. Because while I might think it’s a bad thing to be a very cold day, lil’ man hasn’t made up his mind about it yet.
He might not have any idea about the meaning of the words that I’m saying, but he is paying attention to me and paying attention to how I see the world. Which means I need to pay attention to him, and how he is learning to view the world. He will grow up listening to the way I talk to the animals, to his father, to him, and to myself. And, just like his babbling is doing now, he will practice by copying me.
Early one morning, before the sun had come up and while the rest of the house was sleeping (including Mr Bosco, who was curled up at our feet and snoring), I wearily held my lil’ man as he sleepily nursed for what felt like hours.
Mr Bosco is never far from his baby these days.
And, if I’m being perfectly honest, I was a little grumpy despite my best intentions to maintain a grateful heart. As I looked down to check on him, I realized he was staring right at me. He was studying my face, analyzing each feature.
I am his teacher, I realized profoundly as I saw my own reflection in those sweet eyes. Just as he is mine and we learn to look at the world through each other’s eyes.
Lil’ man’s sweet eyes. Can you tell that he’s laughing?
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