T h e S p e e d T h a t T h e C l o c k T i c k s
By the time you have your third baby, you know that time is going to pass quickly.
You know that the days with a newborn curled on your chest are numbered.
You have learnt to breathe in their sweet, milky smell to try and commit it to memory.
You have learnt to study the folds in their skin, the bow of their lips, and the curl of their hands and feet.
You don't want to hurry them into a routine, or a proper bedtime, or into a bigger size of clothes.
However tired you are, however emotional you feel, however difficult it is to juggle a newborn with older siblings that constantly bleat 'MUMMY MUMMY MUMMY' when you just want to sit and cuddle and feed, you know that these moments are fleeting. These moments are special. These moments will be gone before you've even had a chance to blink and take a breath.
You know all this.
But two years later, the speed that the clock ticks still takes you by surprise.
And you feel the need to flick through those photos, close your eyes and remember that smell, and hold up those tiny baby clothes stashed away in a drawer.
And just remember.
That the clock did - just for a moment, once upon a time - stand very still.