I thought time flew by with my first child. We made it through the first few hard months, took a few deep breaths, reassured ourselves that we were doing just fine . . . the next thing we knew, he was about to turn three in a few months. Nothing compares though, to how fast time has already passed with our wee little. Four weeks. The last four weeks of pregnancy dragged on and on. Four weeks of a school year, when I used to teach, were like agony. But four weeks with child number two have done nothing but flown by. Faster than I could have imagined. Time with your first passes like the wind. But time with your second goes at light speed.

Today, James gave Carter his very first bottle. Just in case I ever need to run out and will miss a feeding, we wanted to be sure that a bottle would be an option. Selfishly, I wanted to be the one to do it. I wanted to be the one, after painstakingly pumping the liquid gold from me, to put it in a bottle and continue to be the sole nurturer of my baby. It took everything in me to ask him if he wanted to be the one to do it. I knew he would. He should. I wanted him to. But I didn’t want him to. I wanted him to try and to have Carter refuse to take it . . . I wanted me to be the only thing he wanted. I wanted, I wanted, I wanted. In all honesty, I don’t think it even phased him. He guzzled that bottle down right to the last drop, and then wanted more. I cried on the inside. I sobbed. Part of me died. My baby doesn’t truly need me after all, was what my broken heart told me. What a jealous mama I am.

I know that I won’t always be available to nurse Carter. I know teaching him to use a bottle is a necessity. But after four weeks of feeding him myself. . . after nearly two hundred times nursing him, it was a little sad to miss one. I’m sure I will learn to live with it.

I am happy to say though, that I have done a much better job this time around on the subject of nursing. With Brayden I gave up far too easily, blaming a sleepy baby, poor latch on, unbearable pain. I was done trying after two weeks, and then attempted to pump instead. I gave up on that too.

With Carter, I went in much more determined to succeed. I’m glad I forged on. I’m glad for him and I’m glad for me. It wasn’t easy, and it still isn’t a lot of the time. But it’s the best decision that I made. I feel good about what I’m doing for him. I am a nurturer, as God intended me to be.

On another note, we went to the Museum of Play today with some very good friends. Brayden could hardly contain himself when we told him we were going to be meeting them there. He jumped up and down. Announced it to the walls. Let the cat in on the secret and then told his baby brother. The museum is Brayden’s favorite place. The walls can attest to that.

Carter was loved on. The boys ran around like little children on a sugar high. The four of us adults talked when we could. . . when we weren’t chasing our little ones through the mazes of people, making sure they didn’t leave our sight. Saturdays at the museum are crazy. I think I left with a nervous breakdown.

I love bringing a newborn places. This cute little wee one of mine turns heads . . . I see people smile out of the corner of my eye, pointing and making comments to their spouses. Their children. You used to be that small once upon a time, they say. Oh, look at that brand new baby. I get asked his age. They smile again and make sure to say something sweet to me. Four weeks of adorable comments. I’m sad that he won’t be so new anymore. Now I have to count his age in months.

For the sake of my husband, I must end this post. Too much reflecting. . . time got away from me and now the little one is up from his nap. Time to feed him. And no bottle this time. Thank goodness.