I’ve done this before.
I’ve done the bottles, the diapers, the swinging and rocking and shushing.
I’ve done the never ending loop of change-feed-entertain-sleep, repeat ad nauseum.
I’ve done the feeling like I will never have fun again. Never not be at some small demanding tyrant’s beck and call.
I’ve done the wishing she would just figure out how to roll over, how to crawl, how to do the next big thing.
And I know.
I know it’s not forever.
I know that when she starts crawling, I will miss the days when I could put her somewhere and she would stay put.
I know that we are technically already 10% done with all of the bottles we will ever give her. And that I will miss having a snuggly baby drinking a bottle on my lap. And I will cry when we give her the last bottle.
I know that she will eventually sleep through the night. That I’ll wake in a panic the first time it happens. That I won’t be up at 2 am every night for the rest of my life.
I know that in the grand scheme of things this phase, this utter helplessness and dependency on the part of my daughter, will pass more quickly than I’d like.
I know these things. I do.
But if I know these things, then why is this still so damn hard?