The problem with babies....

is that they just don't keep. I have tried, begged and pleaded with each of them to just stay, stay as they are, for a while longer at least, and none of them comply. No, not one.

It was already one week ago that we were headed to the hospital at this very time for Clover's birth day.

I look at this baby's face, and I see her already growing and changing and OUCH. Double ouch. My heart breaks. I don't think these kind of breaks will ever really mend. People tell me how nice it is when kids get older, and I know that is true. But, I am a baby person. I could have 12 of them. Then we could be on tv and be fameous. Rich and fameous. Hang on a second, I'll go run that idea by Bob and see what he thinks....

Um, no. He said no go. Something like "I think 12 is too many." Whatever. I thought it was a grand plan.

This is the last time I will see the quizzical expressions from a tiny one who still struggles to focus on my face when she looks at me. It is the last time I will smell newborn skin, and feel it's softness. The last time I will be able to rub my cheek on feathery new hair. To hear those small, sweet cries, to spend hours at night with her laying on my chest. I could stare at her all day. All day and all night. I could stare and cradle her and try to capture these moments, bottle them up in my mind and store them there forever as fresh as they are to me today, babyscent included.