You bring that little bundle home. He’s so new and tiny and somehow you instinctively know how to hold him even though you’ve never been able to hold other babies without making them cry. Ever.
You spend every other minute swinging from pure elation to feeling completely overwhelmed to utterly tearful. It’s hard and happy and amazing and scary and wonderful, all at once.
You realise you haven’t slept in forever and that you may have given birth to a baby that doesn’t through the night at all. You start to resemble a zombie and will start all conversations with how little you are sleeping.
You realise how fast time is passing by.
You start blogging to snap yourself out of the sleep deprived Groundhog Day and record things about your little one.
Little things. Big things. Funny things. Anything.
You record videos, so as not to forget. To record that memory forever. You text the OH constantly with constant status updates. You both find every little thing he does awesome and impressive. You constantly wade through each others phones to see any photos of your little one you might have missed.
You remember the first time he sat up, the first time he said Dada (instead of Mama), the first taste of food, the first time he climbed onto the sofa.
You remember all the cuddles and the teething and how you haven’t had a proper lie in in forever. You hope it will come one day soon. Hopefully.
You laugh about all the funny things he now says and smile at how his speech and personality is developing. You recount his antics to all your family members repeatedly.
You have all this recorded, in detail, all over the place. Thank goodness for technology. You realise you have thousands of photos. And you still have more to take.
And despite all the memories and the moments and the milestones you turn around and wonder, with genuine surprise…
“How on earth did he grow up so fast?”