This post may contain affiliate links. Please see my Disclosure statement for more details.
David is 10 weeks old today.
I have two Monday babies, and the day Libbie turned 10 weeks old was my first day back at work after her birth.
I claim to love the baby time more than the toddler time (and I know that is swapped for a lot of people). But I also know I didn’t experience all the baby time with Libbie. I didn’t wrestle her to nap, change all of her diapers, or fish the pacifier off the floor 8,000 times a day (only 3,000 times).
Of course everything is already different, because I have a baby and a toddler. I will never know what it would have been like to be at home with just one little baby during her formative months. (I really am not bitter, just truthful, right?) But that is past. And now I feel like today marks the beginning of a new adventure for me: staying at home with an infant.
I’m excited to see all of his developments and firsts myself. I’m less excited to change every diaper, especially the blowouts. I’m excited to not spend two hours a day strapped to my breastpump. I’m less excited to have to schedule life around the naps and feedings of two children.
I wouldn’t give up staying at home for anything; yet, I still miss my job. I miss getting dressed and brushing my teeth every morning, seeing my co-workers every day, and being involved in some amazing Bible study projects. I was good at my job. A lot of days I feel that I’ve already failed abysmally in this new profession.
I sit here, blogging, with my baby boy snuggled against my chest and realize this is not something I got to do with Libbie. Our hours between work and bedtime were slim. (Plus David is just more of a cuddlebug.) I love it.
The stories of their infancies will be different. But both sweet and good, I surmise. Both tough, both filled with charmed moments.
As always, I’m willing to ride it out and see what God does with it. And I’m excited.