The lines of my body are softer now.
Softer like her little cheeks as they brush against mine.
Softer like her smile while she falls asleep looking up at me.
Softer like her perfect head of hair when I brush it after bath time.
The parts of my body are more full now.
Full like her belly because of the milk I create.
Full like her thighs fitting into new sizes as we leave the premie world in our rearview.
Full like our hearts since we found out she was coming, and they’ve filled exponentially every day since.
The muscles of my body ache.
Ache like my heart whenever she cries.
Ache like my arms, sore from rocking, but I’d rock for hours more.
Ache like my feet from tip-toeing while she sleeps soundly as to not disturb her peace.
The circles under my eyes are deeper now.
Deeper like our connection that grows with every sweet smile she lets us have.
Deeper like our eye contact as she realizes more and more every day that when she cries, I’ll be there.
Deeper like the connection between my husband and me, as we stand together like we never have before and re-build our world around our tiny human.
My old clothes are tighter now.
Tight like the way her little hands wrap around my fingers and squeeze as if to say, “Thank you for being here.”
Tighter like the hold she has on us, more and more with every passing day.
Tighter like the waste band of her diaper as we find new ways to secure it and hope nothing leaks through.
The nights are longer now.
Longer like the minutes spent googling wake windows and ways to increase milk supply.
Longer like the time it takes me to respond to texts because space and time don’t exist in our new world.
Longer like the walks we take just to see her eyes wide in amazement at the trees above.
The days are shorter now.
Shorter like my attention span for things that take me away from this new, most important job I’ve ever had.
Shorter like her naps as her wake windows widen and we explore new ways to learn together.
Shorter like the way the weeks feel as they’re ticking by.