Friday, July 28, 2006
Garrett was one week old yesterday and already I find myself contemplating how time flies by so quickly. I know that when he cries, if I take to long to go get him, by the time I get to his room, he'll be 18. I blinked and a week went by. A few more and he'll be in middle school and then college. I already want those days back. I want to recapture what it was like when he was put on my chest. I want to go back and savor those first few hours. I want to look at him, nonstop, for the rest of my life because I don't want to accidentally miss any of his.I'm convinced that it's physically and emotionally impossible to look down at him, wiggling on my lap, intermittently hiccupping, and not believe that there is a God. I mean, I love my husband and I happen to think I'm a pretty creative person, but there is no way we did this on our own. He's much too precious and he smells too much like innocence and dreams. God did this. We had nothing to do with it.