I can tell her newborn clothes are getting tight on her. She won't be able to wear them much longer. And she's fitting into this swaddle that was too big for her a month ago. I squeeze her knowing that she will never be this little again. She won't always be able to fall asleep on my shoulder. One day, she'll be a teenager, looking at me across the dining room table, and only I will remember how sweet it was to have her whole body fit on my chest, it rising and falling with the tiniest breaths.
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