Do you know that sometimes your dad and I just hold you and cry? At first I thought it was just my post-pregnancy hormones going a bit haywire but when your daddy was joining in on the tears I realized it is just because we both feel so lucky to have you. When we’re all snuggled together on the couch it is hard to believe that you’re ours to keep.
(Photo by Tara Parker Photography)
We talk to you about how beautiful and smart you are. We tell you all the things we want you to avoid: friends who think it is popular to be dumb, boys who drive too fast (and do other things too fast!), the nasty ball pits at Fast Food restaurants, a cocaine addiction . . . you know, just the basics. Then we tell you all the things we know you’ll be: compassionate, spirited, full of laughter, a woman who speaks her mind. We sing to you all day long – substituting your name in to popular songs. Thankfully you don’t seem to know the difference between mommy’s off-key singing and dad’s amazing voice (or if you do, you’ve kept quiet about it, and I appreciate that). We tell anyone and everyone who will listen all about how in love we are with you. I even pulled out pictures of you on my phone to the bank teller issuing me a new credit card. I couldn’t help myself. We’re so overwhelmed by you.
As your mommy I feel like you’ve introduced me to a whole side of myself that I didn’t know was there. One day I just woke up knowing a whole new language. Who knew that I could speak fluent mommy? Without thinking my arms knew how to bounce you in place. My hands knew how to pat your butt to get you calmed down. I knew how to put you on one hip and carry you. And over the course of a few weeks I’ve only gotten more fluent – learning your different cries, anticipating what you’ll need next, setting new records for how fast I can lull you back to sleep. Thank you, by the way, for being such a good sleeper.
I had my birthday this month and I spent those first few moments of being 30 singing you girl scout campfire songs and staring in to your slowly blinking eyes. I stared at your hair that looks like golden thread and your soft tiny hands . . . it was 3:00 in the morning, and I realized you are the best present your daddy has ever given me.
(Photo by: Tara Parker Photography)
You’ve changed so much in the last month. You’re holding your head up a little bit more every day. Your eyes are turning blue and we can see that you’re really there behind them. You seem eager to express yourself and have quite the repertoire of grunts, cries, and sighs. You love your swing and sometimes cry for us to put you down and let you have a cruise in it. You can rip ass like an adult, sorry honey, it had to be said. Sometimes you fart so loud it sounds like you’re sitting on top of Daffy Duck. Speaking of ducks, your ducky pajamas are my favorite.
I’d like to promise we’ll stop crying over how much we love you before you’re a teenager and easily embarrassed . . . but we love you so much I’m not sure.
Welcome home baby.