Twenty-eight days

Four weeks.

Twenty-eight days.

Just short of one month.

Since baby Charlie arrived this time four weeks ago, time has passed at ten times the usual rate. It must have.

As we start to see her newborn-ness rub away around the edges, I want to yell STOP! Slow it down, enjoy the preciousness. I know that eleven times this past four weeks will also pass in the blink of an eye and I will be recording her first birthday, her first steps. I have learned the secret only revealed to grandparents: babies grow up far too fast, quicker than you could ever believe. You cannot slow the time, no matter how much you try.

As Kaitlyn's doula, I am with her every day, committed to being so for the traditional 40 days. I wash, I clean, I assist, I support, I accompany, I reassure, I laugh, I enjoy. I count weeks, days, hours as they tick away. I capture the moments, before they slip through our fingers. I grasp the memories that might slip away in the postnatal fog.

There is nothing more important than snuggling into a newborn, feeling that silky skin, looking into those seeking eyes, smelling that newborn scent, hearing those precious breaths. I am so glad that my daughter knows this wisdom and doesn't wish it away. There is a lifetime for other things - these days can never come again. You must drink your fill while you can.

You don't have anything more important to do. This is the most important thing you will ever do.