I haven’t written you a letter since the night before you were born. I can remember it as if I were still laying in the hospital bed, terrified to face the reality of being solely responsible for another human life. And yet it also feels like a million years ago. It’s true what they say, that once you have children you can’t remember your life before them. This is a lesson you best not learn until after you’ve made a stable life for yourself and been married a while. Just sayin’.
The baby I see right now playing in your exersaucer and trying to make out with the apple toy is so different from the roly poly newborn you were when you came home. You laugh constantly, even when Mommy’s jokes aren’t that funny. You love it when I dance around the kitchen for you, but if you ever secretly record it I will ground you for life.
You’re becoming a much better sleeper, and I have to admit it stings a little to see you roll away from me in your crib when you drift off. You’ve learned to like rocking again, and Mommy is so thankful. I cherish those moments cradling you next to my heart and rocking gently. True, you often spoil the moment by trying to rip my shirt off, but you’re a growing boy and I understand.
I am at once so impatient to see you turn into your own person and in tears considering the reality that soon you’ll be a big boy and not my little baby any longer. Soon you’ll start eating solid foods and you’ll become mobile. You’ll throw tantrums and pull hair. You’ll wave goodbye and blow kisses.
There is so much growing and changing on the horizon, and my love and devotion will grow right alongside you. We’re in this together, my love.
All my heart,
P.S. The growling thing you’ve learned to do? It’s cute at first, but now I constantly think you’re pooping. Or feral. Maybe dial it down a tad?