Well, most of you know that up until this point in my life, I've told you that I'm not a huge fan of babies. Even after I had one of my own, I still wasn't a fan... didn't get them. I much preferred older children (2 and up).
When I got pregnant with Cambridge, I dreaded the first 20 or so months, knowing that there would be a lot of one-sided conversations, a lot of guessing about what was wrong, a lot of work.
However, at 3:30 am two nights ago (during a feeding) as I looked into Cambridge's little eyes, all I felt was love. Surprisingly, there was no resentment about making me get up in the middle of the night; I was almost happy to see him. OMG - Who am I?
As I rocked him back to the land of pleasant dreams, he smiled at me at least a dozen times, and in those moments, all of those months of annoyance, anger about getting fat, all of the pain I was in post-labor - it was all worth it. (Seriously, I barely recognize myself lately!)
Unfortunately for me, I can no longer say that finite statement that I don't like babies. Now, I'm not saying that I love all babies - let's not get carried away here people. This time around, I find myself wanting to spend as much time with my new baby as I can - very unlike me. Is it that I'm a "seasoned veteran" of parenting, or is it that this heart is no longer as frozen as it used to be?
Image Credit: PencilLed Daydream
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Cyndi M. Frick
This lifestyle blog is my outlet to share and advise about the things I love. I always have an opinion!