I am ashamed to say that I am usually too busy to smell my baby. I mean, I did a lot when I first brought the baby home, but now that I’m a working mom, I seem to spend a lot more time being super-focused on getting everything right and ready. Especially on Sundays, when the day’s getting away from me and I have the week’s outfits to lay out, the next day’s pumping bag to fill, the leftover breakfast dishes to do, the dinner to make so we can eat leftovers tomorrow when I’m too exhausted do anything but push a button on the microwave.

As I held Elliot close and nursed him tonight, I remembered my goal of being here, and I let the nightly “to-do crawl” fade away. I rubbed my nose against the bright green and white stripe terrycloth of his size 6-month pajamas and inhaled. It was clean, and sweet. It was sadness and pure joy. It was an eternity and an elusive flicker.

I know there will be lots more days when I think I am too busy to smell my baby. But I hope there will be many more when I remember that I’m actually not.

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