Tiny

I just put Brooks to bed. As I laid him down in his crib he curled up and tucked his knees underneath him. I covered him with a blanket and he looked like a tiny little bundle in the middle of his crib. It made me baby hungry. Brooks is not teeny tiny anymore. At his 6 month check-up he was almost 20 pounds and in the 90 something percentile for height and weight. He is a chubby, happy, piece of perfection. But he is not tiny. And right now I am craving tiny. There is some small part of me that is afraid that this might be our last. The pressure to take in every little piece of my babe because there won't be another. There is a bigger part of Jeff that is afraid there will be another. We are in over our heads, he says. He is right. But we have been in over our heads for the last 8 years and we still seem to manage somehow. He is not so sure. I am not either. And talking about it with a 7 month old babe on my hip seems a little loopy. But nonetheless, it is still there, that little bit of longing for just one more. The crazy feeling that time is somehow running out. And it makes me wonder how I will know. If the ache will go away, or if there really is another babe to add to our corner of mayhem.

                                          7 months                            7 days