Yesterday, you were exactly one month old and right now you are sleeping so peacefully in my arms that I'm not entirely sure I will ever be able to let you go. I'm sitting with you in bed, my hair needs brushing, the kitchen needs cleaning, the laundry needs folding, the dogs desperately need a walk, thank you cards need to be written, and yet..and yet, I find myself utterly unable to move. I am transfixed by the little sounds you make while you sleep, the unconscious half smiles, your warmth so close to me, the smell of your sweet little head (wow do you look exactly like your daddy).
I cry that you are already one month old. Before I am ready, you will be living your own life and
I cannot bear the thought, even if it is years away. The past month has been amazing and every day I look at you and can't believe you are mine.
We are both pretty new to this--you to the whole life on the outside business, me to the Mommy thing, but I think we've been doing pretty good. You seem pretty happy (except when you are hungry or getting changed) and I promise I will work to my last breath to keep you that way. I was a little worried before you were born how I would react to someone being so dependent on me. Worried that being so independent (and sometimes selfish) for 33 years would be detrimental. However, you seem to be content wherever you are. It is me who is becoming more and more dependent on you. I feel incomplete when I am away from you. It's good to have "me" time, but for now, I am happiest with you. You recharge my batteries. You soothe me. I thought it was supposed to be other way around, but apparently not for us.
I love you,
Mommy
