Yesterday morning as I finished feeding Ben, he had this look of pure contentment and awe on his face. His belly was full; his mama was holding him; and he was snuggled in a blanket.
It made me wonder how many times I’ve allowed myself the same space to be content in that way. I am not the kind of person who sits still well (maybe this is a result of growing up with four brothers who were constantly on the move and active), which can be a good thing when trying to organize a project or get through a to do list, but it also results in my rushing through days and life often without noticing what I’ve missed.
Yesterday, I just sat with Ben for a little while. I asked him what he was thinking and how he was liking the world out here. We talked about the wonder of lights and puppy dogs who come and sniff your ears and your diapers, but mostly I just watched his face and wondered what was going on in his little brain as it is developing and interpreting this new world that he is encountering.
Since Ben came to us via a c-section, my recovery has had to be slower. I’ve had to be very careful to notice and listen to my body telling me what it needs to recover completely. I’ve had to ask for lots of help. I’ve had to be still much more than I normally am.
And much to my surprise, the world has not collapsed. The sun has still come up and set in the evening.
I might dare to say that I’ve been able to savor this time more fully because I’ve had to slow down.
Hopefully, this is a lesson I can hold on to.