KOLEKSIONI I RI

Netët janë të gjata...
Por vitet, vitet janë të shkurtër.
Beji TAG një mami të re!!
____
‘The nights are long.
When you’re finally home, hospital bracelet still on your wrist, and your sweet infant girl cries all night. When you try everything you know to soothe her and nothing seems to work, and eventually the tears of joy you expected become tears of exhaustion and frustration.
The nights are long.
When you rock, soothe, and sing lullabies all to no avail, and that bassinet you chose with such care sits empty, while you walk the length of your home, shushing, and swaying, and praying sleep will come.
The nights are long.
When the fever is high, his eyes usually dancing with delight, are dull and weary. When his little body is wracked with sickness, and you don’t know what’s wrong. When you call the 24-hour nurse line, or research symptoms online, only to end up terrified.
The nights are long.
When we lie awake at night wondering if our babies, now children, are making friends at school. Our bodies are exhausted from the day, yet our minds still churn with questions: are they adjusting, are they happy, have we taught them enough to navigate these new experiences?
Yes. The nights are long.
But the years?
Oh, the years are short.
When the little bundle that once wouldn’t sleep in the bassinet is now too long to fit, and you lay her gently in the crib instead.
The years are short.
When the tiniest hand that once clutched your finger so tightly, releases your hand readily and walks towards the first day of Kindergarten.
The years are short.
When our babies, who were just cooing, snuggling, and filling their fists with our hair are now curling, straightening, and styling their own.
The years are short.
When the one you thought would never sleep, would now sleep until noon if you let him.
The years are short.
When you see the hand, that just yesterday learned to wave while you encouragingly said, “Say bye-bye,” waving goodbye as she drives away.
The years are short.
When our littles become our bigs; When our way becomes their way; When our love is stretched to the point of aching…
We will remember…
That the nights were so very long. But the years are so very short.’
Netët janë të gjata... Por vitet, vitet janë të shkurtër. Beji TAG një mami të re!! ____ ‘The nights are long. When you’re finally home, hospital bracelet still on your wrist, and your sweet infant girl cries all night. When you try everything you know to soothe her and nothing seems to work, and eventually the tears of joy you expected become tears of exhaustion and frustration. The nights are long. When you rock, soothe, and sing lullabies all to no avail, and that bassinet you chose with such care sits empty, while you walk the length of your home, shushing, and swaying, and praying sleep will come. The nights are long. When the fever is high, his eyes usually dancing with delight, are dull and weary. When his little body is wracked with sickness, and you don’t know what’s wrong. When you call the 24-hour nurse line, or research symptoms online, only to end up terrified. The nights are long. When we lie awake at night wondering if our babies, now children, are making friends at school. Our bodies are exhausted from the day, yet our minds still churn with questions: are they adjusting, are they happy, have we taught them enough to navigate these new experiences? Yes. The nights are long. But the years? Oh, the years are short. When the little bundle that once wouldn’t sleep in the bassinet is now too long to fit, and you lay her gently in the crib instead. The years are short. When the tiniest hand that once clutched your finger so tightly, releases your hand readily and walks towards the first day of Kindergarten. The years are short. When our babies, who were just cooing, snuggling, and filling their fists with our hair are now curling, straightening, and styling their own. The years are short. When the one you thought would never sleep, would now sleep until noon if you let him. The years are short. When you see the hand, that just yesterday learned to wave while you encouragingly said, “Say bye-bye,” waving goodbye as she drives away. The years are short. When our littles become our bigs; When our way becomes their way; When our love is stretched to the point of aching… We will remember… That the nights were so very long. But the years are so very short.’