I hold closely those first six months of my children's lives, when everything was new and beginning, when there was so much for us to discover about one another.
Schedules, routines, and familiarity were upturned. We learned one new thing at a time, my boys and me.
I remember thinking, reminding myself on the unknown days of young parenting: "All I have to do is keep him clean and fed. That's all. Wisdom will grow as needed. For today, just feed the baby and keep him dry. And get some sleep."
For those first six months, I remembered so carefully the details of their births; the story was fresh, and other moms wanted to know. Since my infants did little other than sleep, it was easy to spend time remembering the day everything had changed.
When they turned six months, I started to see glimpses of their personalities. They laughed more. They became mobile. I began to learn who they were.
Something happened around that six-month mark. We rounded our way toward the first year. Instead of always looking back, we started looking forward.
"If he can do this now, I wonder what he'll do next month. I wonder what the next milestone will be. I wonder what he'll teach me next."
I'll never forget the day my children were born. And yet I think about it less.
I have often likened this grief journey to that of a newborn. The first six months have been similar: schedules, routines, and familiarity were upturned; there was little to do but sleep; I spent much time remembering the day it all changed.
I'll never forget the day Robb died, six months ago today. But perhaps I'll begin to think about it less. Because there will be more milestones waiting as I learn to walk and laugh again.
And the same reminder rings true: Wisdom grows as needed.