12 weeks today. And
it seems like forever and not very long all at once. I am looking at you in your car seat
sleeping---and you keep trying to wake up and I keep trying to keep you asleep
just so I can have a few minutes to myself---but at the same time I want you
awake because I just adore your company.
This seems to be the theme of being a mom. Needing some down time, but this intense love
and wanting to be with you every second.
The way you have changed in the last few months is
crazy. I have watched you develop from
this little adorable blob with no head control, no recognition besides
instinctual to your surrounding and other people---to this incredible smiling,
cooing, arms and legs flailing little person.
It’s crazy/scary how much you change every day. What is even more crazy/scary is how much
more I love you every day.
Sometimes when I take you out because I so desperately need
some human interaction---I look at you there in your little car seat so
small. And I think---that is my whole
world right there. That is my whole
world in this little seat. And I get so
scared of any harm coming to you---I get so scared that I could drop you, or a
car could hit us, or even someone could sneeze on you and make you sick. It makes me completely overwhelmed and I
literally have to tell myself that I can’t protect you from everything, and
that I shouldn’t protect you from everything.
I have to stop myself from crying when you cry. Because your cry has a way of tearing at my
soul…and so does your smile. Your smile
could move mountains little man….I look at you smiling and talking to someone
and I just think my god you are so incredible.
How did I make something so incredible?
How did I get so lucky?
I think of your journey into this world a lot. I think of you being born in our living room
with the help of so many warm and wonderful women, and with your amazing
fathers support. I think of how when I
met you it’s like I knew you all along. It’s like I had been waiting for you my
entire life. And when you were handed to
me I felt whole. I felt like everything
was unimportant except for you, me, and your father. The world could fall down, and we could lose
everything---but all I needed was contained in that room.
I give up sleep, my body, eating meals alone, reading, naps,
and being able to spend long amounts of time with your Dad. It’s all frustrating…but let me tell you
something. I wouldn’t change a
thing. I would go without sleep, or
eating, or the daily comforts of life just to have you. I would do everything all over---I would deal
with loss and grief, and being pregnant, and mental illness during pregnancy if
the end result was always you.
I feel a magnetic pull towards you. When I am in the shower and I get 20 mins of
being alone---which I so desperately need that I could cry out when I see your
dad pull into the driveway. When I have
had you attached to me for 20 something hours and I just want to go shut the
door to the bathroom, grab a snack and cry and laugh at the same time. I hear you shout out and it takes literally
all of myself to stay where I am. I want
to go comfort you; I never want you to have to be sad or angry. I want to take every ounce of your hurt and
just let you be a smiling happy boy. I
have to remind myself sometimes to take care of me. Because all I want to do is take care of
you. I swear I could hear your cry from
a million miles away.
Here I sit watching you smile in your sleep. Here I sit trying to get into words what has
been floating around in my head since you were born. What so many mothers feel. I feel exhausted from how much I love
you. But the best kind of
exhaustion. I love you little one.
