Just over two weeks ago I got out of bed and walked, took my own thigh high stockings off (not as glamorous as they sound, and also not an easy feat at the best of times) and showered - less than 24 hours after major abdominal surgery. Nearly ten months ago I walked home from hospital two days after having my skull sawn open. That's mad.
And then there's Alfred. My body grew him, from, like, what exactly? He didn't exist at all, and then a little sac existed that he would grow into, and then he slowly started to exist. And suddenly here he is, fully formed. He has forehead wrinkles, and knuckles. Already there. And he knows to rub his eyes when he's tired. How does he know that? Where there was nothing, there is now Alfred.
There are so many cliches around having a baby. I found them all incredibly dull before Alfred arrived, and am slightly piqued that many are turning out to be true. One thing that we were consistently warned about is how fast he would grow. It's incredible. His face changes daily and he has grown out of clothes already.
Before he was born I had this wonderful plan to take a photo of his face every day so that we wouldn't forget. Except I keep forgetting. I am torn between wanting him to stay this little forever and wanting him to be grown up so I know what happens to him, what he does and what he's like. It's slightly terrifying how much of a blank slate he is right now, and the thought of the tightrope we have to walk in order to give him the best launch pad.
Either way, he is growing. At quite an incredible rate, it's like magic.