This time around, I haven’t counted anything. I don’t keep track of distance between nursing sessions, or the amount of hours slept. I don’t look at scales or measure milk. I don’t think too far ahead or too far behind. I cringe when people ask me how old she is, because I don’t want to think about it. This time around, I’ve stayed right her, in each moment. I cry when her diapers grow too tight and she fights to hold her own head up; this time, out of sadness instead of relief. I simply can’t use the word redemptive enough.
It absolutely took me three newborns to get here, and I have no regrets. But oh, how I wish I could go back do it over with each of my other children. Even for just a day. Instead, I’ll rest in the joy that is Hadassah Lee. And I’ll shout it from the rooftops, to any pregnant or new moms who will listen… please, for the love of all things precious, do yourself a favor and stop counting.