y beautiful, sweet boy. You are one month today and I feel an equal mixture of astonishment that you’ve been with us for a whole month already and amazement that it’s only been a month that we’ve know you.
This month has definitely been a blur, passing by in a haze of exhaustion, sleep deprivation, and crying…mostly for me, not you. In the times when I feel like I’m going to break from the magnitude of life-changes, hormones, and love, I remind myself to soak in these moments because, hard as they are, they are also beautiful and wonderful.
You, my son, are perfect. That’s the first thing your daddy and I said to each other when you were born: “He’s absolutely perfect.” At least several times a day, I ask him, “Have you ever seen a baby who is cuter?!” Partiality aside, I truly ache when I look at your little face and realize that you are ours. We get to keep you. I have a son. I’m a mama. You are ours.
Reality sinks in over and over again and never seems to settle. I love you so much it hurts. I get knots in my stomach—like that physical ache deep in your gut right before going onstage for a big performance—when I look at you. It’s overwhelming and painful this love I feel for you.