how fast.

They say it happens fast; I'm prone to say that it's heartbreaking. Every day Serkan or I moan about how heavy Rowan is getting. Tonight I started weeding through pictures. And even if it's not heartbreaking in any traditional sense, it still chokes me up. I'm past that super weepy stage called the baby blues, though I'm not sure I'll ever have the same stamina against tears.

Digression: The baby blues are blue, but they aren't all sad. Sometimes those tears are a form of happiness. And mostly those tears bubbling up from the depth and yet out of nowhere are the body's way of healing and dealing with the trauma of labor and birth. Add a storm of hormones, caring for a tiny life (especially if the closest you've ever come to caring for babies is watching classmates take care of their baby egg in grade school), little sleep and (maybe) the near inability to walk or stand up straight, and yeah, of course there'll be tears.  For the first few weeks after Rowan was born, I couldn't see kids having fun without bawling. As we left the pediatrician's office after Rowan's first visit, school was just breaking. Little people walked hand in hand with their parents toward home, or else they skipped or looked up at their mommies talking about their day. I thought of how someday those little ones would be Rowan, and I couldn't stop crying. I was crying so much, I couldn't even try to explain why I was crying. We had to go for a longer drive so I could cry it out. And let's just paint a clearer picture. My face was wet, yes, but real boo-hoo bawling was impossible post op. Crying, laughing and just about everything else in this life requires lots of tummy muscle.

So, Rowan used to be small. His arms and legs spindly. Now his legs are just rolls of plump happiness.

{r's first full bath at home, 17 days old}

He had lots of hair. A few weeks ago I thought, Man, he's losing his hair. Then I thought maybe he's not losing it, just getting a little bald spot from where he thrashes his head from side to side when he wants to eat or needs to poop. Looking through photos proves he lost lots of his strawberry blond hair (no idea where the strawberry came from).

{asleep, he really looks like hubby}

I still can't get through the pictures of him before we met without tearing up. His mouth in a howl, his fingers in his eyes, and his legs stuck by his ears from trying to come out butt first breech. Baby wanted to eat! But dad was there to snap photos and hold him after his hospital bath.

{papa and a swollen rowan before i met him, 1 hour old}

Fast forward to tonight. Rowan and I are at home, spending our first night alone together since birth. Papa is doing some white water rafting for work, apparently in the snow. While I try to put Rowan to sleep next to me and look at him and at photos from two months ago (bugger is two and a half months old now), I can't believe how big his cheeks are or how many chins. I can't believe that his onesies used to swim on him and most don't even fit anymore. Even looking at a belly pic a couple days after his due date is laughable; it doesn't even look real.

{2 days after the due date, and 3 days before rowan}

Now his smiles are expansive. He cracks up when he sees himself in the mirror--as of today. He's laughing in his sleep as I type this. It doesn't make sense to cry at these developments, I know. But it's the part about it happening so fast. Everybody tells you how quickly it all passes; I feel this life whooshing by trailing its colorful streak, and yet... It just happens all too fast.

p.s. I do know what's missing. Recent photos of Rowan's pudginess. I'm behind with photo organization and just about everything else. Will have more recent pictures soon. In the meantime I'll be figuring out a good photo sharing method or reinstate my Flickr. Until then, I'm Facebooking it. Feel free to friend me.