love n. A deep, tender, ineffable feeling of affection and solicitude toward a person, such as that arising from kinship.
Tomorrow my baby turns 1. And apart from the fact that this past year has sped by quicker than the speed of light, it's been so wonderful.
Although I wish that it hadn't been such a blur.
Having a second child is so different from the first. The first-born is looked at, adored, played with, and there's lots of time to stop and wonder at this lovely creation that you and your partner have made.
The second born just fits in. There's time for a quick cuddle or feed before you're running after the first born who has decided he's not getting enough attention. It's amazing what you can do while you've got a baby at your breast. I had no idea of the possibilities the first time round.
That being said, I've made time for cuddles and in those first few months, I watched my baby carefully, even writing in a diary to make sure I remembered things. So glad I did. Because I've already forgotten so much.
And knowing how the second child usually doesn't have as many photos taken, I've done my best to ensure there's as many, if not more, than the first.
But no matter how much I've tried to slow things down and remember the moments, we move at such a mad pace just to keep up the maintenance. How much I've tried to re-think how I do things to make more space for enjoyment, for playing, and for adoring.
And there seems to be no way around it.
So here we are. Another year later. Listening for the next new word, and watching out for that first step, observing the progression.
I love this boy, and as time goes by, like him that love will grow and grow. And grow.