It's this word that happens to you and you don't even notice it.
The first time they place him on your chest and you take in that secret saline smell of your baby's first breath, it starts.
You are no longer you.
You are we.
We are going. We are staying. We have a cold today so we cannot come out to play. We are going to Target. We left Target early because we had a meltdown.
It's this thing that happens gradually over time and one day you catch yourself pushing your cart around the corner in Costco while making a motorboat noise, and you realize you left the toddler home with Daddy, but you still made the noise anyways because that is what we do.
We are together, even when we are apart.
And then you realize that this together, the together that means a plump little hand holding yours, the together of never using the bathroom uninterrupted ever, the together that means you can count on a warm little body crawling into your arms for a good five minute squeeze every time it emerges from sleep, the together of makeup in the carpet and pee on the shower curtain....that together is finite.
I don't want to rush it. I don't want to look forward to the end of this together, to the time when they just don't need me so much and I am alone again. Because this together is precious. It is a gift. It is now.
Today I'm linking up with The Gypsy Mama for