Six weeks

Six weeks.

It’s been six weeks since I brought my baby earth size. Since I pushed my body to it’s limits, turning myself inside out to be pieced back together by a love that seems to good to be true.

It’s been six weeks of learning my new baby, and how to live in a new skin, and a life of spreading my

time and love in a new life with my other children.

It’s been six weeks of being up at night, after a day that doesn’t stop. Of seeing precious moments with my baby through eyes that are held open by my love for her.

It’s been six weeks of learning to lower my standards again. Of my house looking like a tip, and my clothes looking like I should have washed them yesterday.

It’s been six weeks of welcoming all the support I have been given, and trying with every ounce of me not to feel guilty. Of realising that we all really do need a village, and being grateful for mine.

It’s been six weeks.

But how has it been six weeks?

How do I have a six week old baby?

I feel like I’ve already missed so much of it.

But this is how motherhood goes.

I should know this by now.

It’s being there.

Doing it.

Realising the time.

And feeling like you are running late, even when you’re not.

I was there for the past six weeks.

I may not remember all of it in the thick of the fog, but I was.

That’s why we are six weeks in at all.