Seventeen Days

That's how old my baby girl is. That's nearly three weeks. It's 408 hours and 24,480 minutes. I dare not count the seconds.

The first week she was here was mostly about recovering and discovering. Recovering from the surgery required to bring this precious life into the world, and discovering how to be a mama to a new little one again.

The second week was learning to navigate parenthood and find ways to fill the hours that I am home alone and she is sound asleep (and sleep she does, this little one).

And here I am in the third week and I'd have to say this week is about joy. Joy in finding ways to make this pensive child of mine smile [when she's not asleep]. Joy in reading her face and trying to decipher all the thoughts that are surely running through her head.

But I'm a little bit sad, too. I'm sad that time seems to be moving so quickly this time around. I really can't believe that it's been almost three weeks since I first glimpsed this new life over the blue curtain and heard her first cries. It's been almost three weeks since I was wheeled past the nursery window and I glimpsed her pooping not for the first time (she's got quite the productive digestive tract, let me tell you).

The rhythm of our days is returning to our version of normal and The Lady Gray seems to just fit so nicely. In such a short time she's become an integral part of our family that I can't imagine a life that didn't have her in it.