How surreal. He was due yesterday but would have been born last week by induction and he is four weeks old on Monday.
I called him George once. Just once.
In the second week, freed from hospital, I was suddenly overcome with how much Felix looks like his older brother and then I realised: well of course they look alike, they are brothers... duh.
Since his birth I have been consumed by all things Felix. Submerged in him. Drinking in his scent. Touching his softness. Lying with his skin stuck to mine listening to his squeaks and groans. Loving the sounds of his aliveness and the force of the air screaming from his lungs. The driving urge to fix whatever is wrong and needing to soothe. I didn't imagine the ferocity of that.
And he soothes me. My heart beats slower when he's lying on my chest, my thoughts slow down and there is a glimpse of peace.
I find it hard to let Ray "kidnap" him but I love love love seeing them together.
Poor Felix. It's such very hard work being new. Observing the drive to develop in him is exhausting for us, let alone for him. We have all three cried with frustration and exhaustion and not understanding and then Ray and I remember and remind each other that this moment will never come again.