My third child, honeybee, recently turned 4 months old. I am officially confident that I survived the fourth trimester. Postpartum OCD did not return, and depression never set in. Life has been good.
I realized, however, that I did not take nearly as many pictures of honeybee as I have my older children. Some of this is due to the fact that I now have school drop offs and a generally busier life (3 kids create more work than one, go figure!), but most of it has to do with something else entirely. That said, I’m pretty sure she’s going to notice later in life that her infancy is not nearly as well documented as that of her siblings. I might owe her an explanation.
I have enjoyed the postpartum period with you.
One of my obsessions when bug and ladybug were infants was that if I wasn’t constantly documenting every moment of their existence, it must have meant that I didn’t love them enough.
Now, I’m not only confident that I love you, sweetheart, but I’m nearly breathless from it. I’m not obsessed with taking pictures, rather, I’m cuddling you more, and smiling into that beautiful little face.
I thought I hated the baby stage. I don’t. I hated the baby stage with an untreated mental illness. You, honeybee, have brought so much joy and peace into my soul. You have shown me how beautiful the fourth trimester can be.
So, when you look and see that there are fewer pictures of you as a baby than your siblings, do not for one second think that you are loved less. If you look carefully, there are also fewer pictures of your siblings at their current ages. Why? Because I’m not simply observing your lives right now. I’m participating in them. I’m cuddling. I’m laughing. I’m healing.
Honeybee, I never knew how much I could love this phase in life. I owe your daddy the world for asking me to step out in faith another time.
I am so grateful for you, love. For your siblings. For your daddy. So grateful. Thank you for coming into our lives.