Love is Patient, Love is Kind

I had forgotten how very much I love being the mother of a newborn.  I love everything about it.  I love that during her awake hours, any time not spent staring into her eyes and talking to her is time wasted.  I love the fleeting grins that she flashes at me, the ones that I only catch if I am right there, gazing into her attentive eyes.  I love her sweet cooing sounds she makes when she is talking to me.  I even love, in the middle of the night when it is hard to get up, how it is impossible to feel impatient with her little awake self.  I love trying to get those tiny, fragile little fingers into long sleeves, and trying to hold those tiny, kicking feet out of her poopy diaper.  I love nursing her.   I love the sweet, gasping little face that is getting hosed down by milk; how she will gulp desperately and then spit out an entire mouthful, just for fun.  I love that she settles down and looks for me when she hears my voice.  I love that she tries to nurse her sister's face and her sister thinks it's a big kiss.  I love that when I am burping her, she snuggles over until her little head is resting under my chin.  I love the soft, sweet-smelling hair that I can breathe in while we snuggle.  I love that she sounds like a squeaky toy when she has the hiccups.  I love how she clasps her little hands together when I am holding her.  I love that she would rather be with me than with anyone else in the world.  I feel so lucky, so blessed to be the mother of a newborn again.  It's a love that softens my outlook on everything.