Monday, February 27, 2012

Swept Away

Little Brother,

I can't believe I have been your mom for three months now.  Before you were born, I wondered how I could possibly love two boys as much as I love your big brother, but somehow, my heart has expanded to fit you just fine.  I'd like to think it doubled in size, even though you're so tiny.

 You have brought so much happiness into our lives.  I am so proud of all of your accomplishments, even the tiny ones.  You hold your head up and look around, you follow our voices across the room.  You laugh out loud when we make fools of ourselves just for you.  You eat rice cereal out of a spoon.  You grab things, you turn over from your belly to your back.  You kick, scream, coo, and chew endlessly on your tiny knuckles.

Constantly, we marvel at your simplicity. The joy you find in the first raspberry on your belly. The amazement in your eyes as Grandma makes ridiculous noises for you.  The simple things we overlook hold your attention for minutes at a time.  Your blue eyes and intense stare make me look at things a little longer, too, wondering how it must appear to someone seeing it for the first time.

Since you've turned three months, a lot of things have changed for you.  We stopped swaddling you at night, and now you flap your arms every chance you get, rocking your bassinet back and forth like crazy.  Eventually you fall asleep.  I don't know how, but you do. You are so much more alert and engaging than before.  You miss us when we're gone and smile when we come back.  It's nice to know we're loved.


You are so loved. We adore you, we find you irresistible. You still wake up at night every few hours and I still fight it - slipping you your binky and saying a little prayer that you fall back asleep. You never do. Somehow, though, our three a.m. feedings have become a treasured time of sleepy smiles and nighttime farts.  I feel so blessed when your breathing steadies and your grasp on my shirt releases as you fall deep into sleep and I get to lay you in your bed oh-so-quietly.

Your dad, big brother, and I cannot wait to see what you do tomorrow, and the day after that, and the day after that.  You are so brilliant - every day is a new squeal, laugh, and wiggle that makes it better than the one before.

I like you. I love you. I will always protect you.

Love,

your mom.


-S.

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