my love can be your food
My sweet Connor,
You have now been the other man in my life, and not just an inconvenient bump in my middle (which gives my hip hiccups every day), for one month, and I cannot imagine a greater gift than you. You seem to change a little every day, and sometimes when I look down at you and feel the tiny butterfly kisses of your nursing (which are also on occasion much larger feelings) I cannot help but think of how brief this all is. After being born at a perfectly reasonable seven and three-quarters pounds, your most recent pediatrician's visit showed you well on your way to eleven pounds! Yes, that's right, you gained (essentially) three pounds in as many weeks. Your aunt, on hearing this, said to you, "When you're a year old, you'll be sixty pounds!" Whereupon I glared at her and hugged my (still, but not for long) tiny little boy to my breast. Someday, my love, you will understand how quickly eighteen years can go by, just as I have started to. I promise you that I will try to be mindful of how fleeting and precious your childhood is, and I will try to give you the best one possible, each day along the way. I think we are off to a great start if we have nothing more than eachother and the wonderful daddy I have chosen for you.
People will try to explain to you as you grow up how you will feel about your own children, but there seems to be no way to verbalize the immediacy and fierceness of the love and protectiveness that settles into your bones when you become a parent. Twice since you were born I have dreamt that something happened to you and I have literally seized myself from sleep and lay trembling and listening to you breathe next to me in your bassinet. Ever since the first night that you were born I have woken immediately at the tiniest whimper from you (and have only been able to sleep with you awake for about four days now- that is new). It is a strange, strange thing to feel so tuned in to another human being. For now, you pretty much decide when I sleep (or particularly when I don't), when I wake, and eat, and do most anything. I think we are both very lucky that I have the luxury to essentially be your slave right now. For a while at least, little one, you are definitely in charge. Maybe a little later we can start negotiating some, but for now I really don't mind very much. I know that you aren't asking for anything besides what you need, and I consider myself lucky to be able to provide it.
You are clearly flourishing and I am so proud of you, my fat little boy. I am waiting desperately for the time when you will smile every time I wake you up and every time daddy comes in the door. I can't wait to hear you laugh. I will tickle you and kiss you and then tickle you some more, if it will only keep you laughing and smiling. I can't wait until you are bigger and I stop being afraid to bring you and cuddle you in the bed, so we can sleep together sometimes. Right now I only hold you in the bed very carefully, and I don't sleep that way, so we rarely are in the bed together. We just don't have the kind of bed that is considered okay for tiny babies (which I have to keep reminding myself you still are, though you seem so big already), and I would never be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.
For now, pumpkin pie, I just try to remember every day what you look like, what you smell like, what your little round belly feels like when I rub it and your tiny back feels like when I pat it. I do that, and I look forward to finding out what color your eyes are, and whether you have my nose or your daddy's. In a little while you'll get far more complicated, but then at least we'll be able to cuddle in the bed and sleep together sometimes. Every day is a blessing, and I hope to give you all the joy in this world.
Love,
momma
January 9, 2006
You have now been the other man in my life, and not just an inconvenient bump in my middle (which gives my hip hiccups every day), for one month, and I cannot imagine a greater gift than you. You seem to change a little every day, and sometimes when I look down at you and feel the tiny butterfly kisses of your nursing (which are also on occasion much larger feelings) I cannot help but think of how brief this all is. After being born at a perfectly reasonable seven and three-quarters pounds, your most recent pediatrician's visit showed you well on your way to eleven pounds! Yes, that's right, you gained (essentially) three pounds in as many weeks. Your aunt, on hearing this, said to you, "When you're a year old, you'll be sixty pounds!" Whereupon I glared at her and hugged my (still, but not for long) tiny little boy to my breast. Someday, my love, you will understand how quickly eighteen years can go by, just as I have started to. I promise you that I will try to be mindful of how fleeting and precious your childhood is, and I will try to give you the best one possible, each day along the way. I think we are off to a great start if we have nothing more than eachother and the wonderful daddy I have chosen for you.
People will try to explain to you as you grow up how you will feel about your own children, but there seems to be no way to verbalize the immediacy and fierceness of the love and protectiveness that settles into your bones when you become a parent. Twice since you were born I have dreamt that something happened to you and I have literally seized myself from sleep and lay trembling and listening to you breathe next to me in your bassinet. Ever since the first night that you were born I have woken immediately at the tiniest whimper from you (and have only been able to sleep with you awake for about four days now- that is new). It is a strange, strange thing to feel so tuned in to another human being. For now, you pretty much decide when I sleep (or particularly when I don't), when I wake, and eat, and do most anything. I think we are both very lucky that I have the luxury to essentially be your slave right now. For a while at least, little one, you are definitely in charge. Maybe a little later we can start negotiating some, but for now I really don't mind very much. I know that you aren't asking for anything besides what you need, and I consider myself lucky to be able to provide it.
You are clearly flourishing and I am so proud of you, my fat little boy. I am waiting desperately for the time when you will smile every time I wake you up and every time daddy comes in the door. I can't wait to hear you laugh. I will tickle you and kiss you and then tickle you some more, if it will only keep you laughing and smiling. I can't wait until you are bigger and I stop being afraid to bring you and cuddle you in the bed, so we can sleep together sometimes. Right now I only hold you in the bed very carefully, and I don't sleep that way, so we rarely are in the bed together. We just don't have the kind of bed that is considered okay for tiny babies (which I have to keep reminding myself you still are, though you seem so big already), and I would never be able to live with myself if anything happened to you.
For now, pumpkin pie, I just try to remember every day what you look like, what you smell like, what your little round belly feels like when I rub it and your tiny back feels like when I pat it. I do that, and I look forward to finding out what color your eyes are, and whether you have my nose or your daddy's. In a little while you'll get far more complicated, but then at least we'll be able to cuddle in the bed and sleep together sometimes. Every day is a blessing, and I hope to give you all the joy in this world.
Love,
momma
January 9, 2006
