So newborns are *hard* work. They’re tiny, fragile and as a new mum you have absolutely no idea just how exactly you’re supposed keep them alive!
But now my Sonny Jim is a whole six months old – and even though he is a complete delight at the moment – there are a few things I miss already about those newborn days…
- The staying put. When he was new to the world you could put the little lad down – and he basically stayed where you put him. Now Sonny Jim is capable of getting himself into all sorts of pickles if you take your eyes off him for half a second. Wriggling his way under the cot? No problem. Pulling chunks of grass up and trying to eat them? Easy. And this is only going to get worse when he’s properly crawling and walking!
- The cuddles. Sonny Jim and me still have tons of cuddles of course, but nowadays he is normally also trying to pull my hair, poke my eyes, and/or clamber over my shoulder at the same time. When he was newborn, he’d just curl up on my chest and snooze.
- The sleep. When he was new, Sonny Jim loved a big sleep around lunchtime and would not stir whatever was going on around him. The hubby and me actually managed some nice lunches out together, chatting for an hour or so while he happily slept away in the pram. No more!
- The teeny, tiny clothes. I know Sonny Jim is still pretty darn ickle, but his clothes are already double the size they were. I’m too emotionally attached to lots of his newborn stuff to part with it, so the hubby has dutifully stored piles of them up in the loft for me (we didn’t know if we were having a boy or a girl so nearly all of them are neutral colours, which y’know, may come in handy one day in the future…)
- The family time. Those first couple of weeks while the hubby is off on paternity leave and you’re both totally obsessed with the new arrival is like living in a little love bubble. Okay you’re sore, you’re both sleep deprived, but you’re on such a natural high it just doesn’t seem to matter.
- The baby yawns. Oh and the sleep smiles. It makes me ache just thinking of them!
- The sight of your 6ft 3inch husband curled up with that teeny, tiny baby on his chest. Or hoisted over his shoulder like a weeny sack of flour. I defy anyone not to melt at that – and miss it. Even though the sight of the baby giggling like mad at his dad saying, “eeny, meeny, miny, moe” nowadays is also pretty special too.