How do you even begin to write about something you love so much it feels like a piece of your heart exists outside of your body?

How can an experience be so foreign yet so universal?

What a huge change it is to go from the idea of bringing home a baby to the utter terror, excitement, and “what the f do we do now” moment when you walk through the door as a family of three (plus two dogs, obviously) for the first time.

And that first night… woof.

To go from a baby in your belly, just doing its thing, to a living, breathing little thing in your arms.

I felt like I had to write something because it felt weird to jump almost seven months into motherhood. But, I finally feel like I have enough mental capacity to sit down and share again and I want to use this space to continue to document the beautiful chaos.

Because if the last seven months have taught me anything, it is that time goes by quickly—too quickly. Motherhood so far has been a journey of contradictions:

Exhausting and exhilarating
New and natural
Busy and boring

I’m simultaneously mourning the teeny little human Henry used to be while being abundantly excited as he hits milestones and becomes more and more himself.

I’m trying to be present in every single moment but sometimes those moments are so hard and exhausting that I just want them to be over.

(Quick note to self and to you: please never tell a mother to “hold onto these moments because they go by so fast.” That is actually very unhelpful, guilt-inducing advice when you’re living in it.)

So, in the interest of the teeny little human Henry used to be and documenting moments, here he is:)