Yesterday, I had the privilege of visiting a high school chum of mine and getting to hold her sweet, precious, two-week-old baby girl.
As with the newborn baby I held about two months ago, this little girl was born about a pound and a half larger than Noah was when he was born. I think that knowing that made the experience even more surreal, because the first thought I had, and the first thing I said, when I saw Heather and little bitty Maddison was, " Oh my gosh, was Noah ever that small?"
I held little Miss Maddison Olivia for as long as I could before I had to go home and relieve my husband of mommy-duties. I didn't dare take Noah to see the new baby, for he was still snuffly and I was not going to risk giving a newborn any diseases like he might have possibly given another baby. When I got home, Stephan was excitedly waiting to show me how Noah scoots backwards on his belly. (something I have known for a week now.) I scooped up my big boy and tossed him around. He laughed, 'cause he loves it. I don't regret Noah growing up. I love how sturdy and heavy and strong and mobile he is. I especially love how responsive and talkative and sweet he is. I love that he will spontaneously grab me by my face/hair/glasses and attack me with wet, sloppy kisses. I love that he loves his daddy and enjoy animals and how I can sometimes almost guess what he's thinking due to the expression on his face. No, I do not regret Noah growing up, but sometimes, I certainly do miss tiny, new Noah.