he started the night in his crib but around 2am he was wedged between us. by 6am yesterday he was tossing and turning. my body tensed, not wanting to make any movements that would bring him all the way out of his slumber. an hour passed. he rolled closer to me. the room still dark with a sun that rises later and later. he talked so softly, stopping every few minutes to sit up, and then gently lay his head next to mine.
among my google docs is one called tracking. it contains several years worth of tracking my cycles. and doctor visits. and medications. and symptoms. and expectations. and losses.
that tracking focused mostly on days. a day is such a small thing, and yet, the counting of those days brought sorrow and heartache.
when i was pregnant my tracking switched to weeks. those early and middle weeks dragged, full of anxious emotion and never-ending illness. at times 40 weeks seemed an impossible feat. the later weeks were filled with the babyo’s busy movements and our anticipation.
once asher arrived, we tracked his months and everything that filled them. i held fast to his brief time as an infant, but it passed us by despite our wanting to keep him small with his gummy smiles. each month made way for a new skill, or sound, or tooth, or movement.
today, we start tracking his years.