When I was visiting my mom–or Grandma if you are baby B–the mother of one of my oldest friends stopped by to meet the little man. Before she left she said something to the effect that for the first 6 months, the baby is yours. And after that, it’s time to get him integrated into to the world.
I haven’t been able to stop thinking about this concept.
Benton is two months old this Saturday. Being a tiny man-baby, he doesn’t do a whole lot compared to an older human. His skills include eating, napping, gazing, and punching me in the boob. I adore every inch of him and anything new that he can do. We jokingly proclaim his genius when he makes a new noise or kicks a cat. Although being googly-eyed new parents, we half believe it.
But since he really doesn’t do much on his own yet, he truly still feels like an extension of myself right now. He may not be living inside my belly anymore, but it’s close. That’s why they call it the 4th trimester. He’s so dependent on me, that the boundaries where he stops and I begin are often blurred. When I tell Justin about what happened during the day, it is often “we” and “us” instead of “he” and “him”.
It’s his first six months. OUR first six months. So I am going to eat it up. He has the whole rest of his life to be his own person. An independent guy with likes, and dislikes, and quirks all his own. He is allowed to go out into the world and be what he wants. My job will be to help him, teach him, and leave him alone when he needs to do things himself.
But not yet.
We are busy being unbusy. I am not sure if I am supposed to be doing a ton of activities with the little fellow, but I’m not yet. Sometimes I feel some kind of new-mom-guilt that I should be DOING things with him all the time. But he is so content with eating and napping, that it takes up 90% of our day.
Occasionally, we have dance parties and photobooth sessions. And sometimes I eat his feet.
Because they’re mine.