In two short years, I almost forgot the magic (and fatigue) that a new baby brings. The perfect baby smell, the soft as silk hair, the weight of her on your chest. The baby-moon is such a powerful time, the fierce love that literally consumes you is almost frightening. I do remember that it doesn't last long enough, so I'm trying to breathe as much of her in as possible before her fuzzy hair starts falling out and I find my couch covered in yellow poop from an explosive diaper.
It saddens me to think that this all ends so soon, but then I look at my amazing two year old and all is right with the world. These beautiful little babies turn into beautiful little toddlers, and I'm OK with that.