Thank God, and How Awful

Last night, while intermittently reading about two-month-olds and the things they do, I was noticing how much fuller Sage's cheeks look and how much smoother Thyme's skin is. They've recently started sleeping during the night for four-or-five-hour stretches at a time. It occurred to me that, while they still bob their heads up and down while being held against my shoulder, looking for the breast, they no longer root around like baby birds while simply sitting in their baby seats. They're smiling up a storm, and they're almost ready for the Size 1-2 box of diapers that my mom bought for them at Costco.


My reaction, of course, was, Thank God, and How Awful.

We have lots of fun stuff to look forward to--babbling and crawling and walking. In the coming weeks, they will get increasingly smiley and interactive. But they will never again be newborns. Soon, the fontanels in the backs of their heads will begin to close. They will never again need their umbilical cord stump cleaned. They no longer fit into their first stretchies, and have long outgrown the hats they wore when we brought them home from the hospital.

So help me, this is hard. And wonderful. And unbelievable.