This post may contain affiliate links. Please see my Disclosure statement for more details.
My favorite time of day is nursing and rocking you at your last feeding before bedtime. We sit there and stare at each other; I wrap you in the swaddler and cuddle you against my chest and try not to sob.
So many times when I was very big and pregnant I sat in the glider in your room and wished so much I could hold you and dress you in all the precious things in your closet. When I find myself wishing you would just go to sleep NOW, I remind myself of that anticipation and how much I just wanted to hold you in my arms.
I am already afraid that our next child will be awful, because you are too good to be true. You don’t fuss much, you don’t have colic, you didn’t have any jaundice, you took right to breastfeeding, and you are an absolutely gorgeous baby. Most nights you sleep in decent shifts and only once have I cried my eyes out because you were bawling and I didn’t know why.
I can’t believe you’re already three weeks old. Your little cheeks and legs are chubby and I love them. I love to rub your little belly. In a way, I want time to stop and you to be so little forever. In another way, I can’t wait for us to be able to do things together, like make cookies or Christmas ornaments, or sing together. You should be well-versed in praise choruses by the time you can talk, because that is what I sing to you (I never have been able to remember the words to any other songs very well).
I worry that I am already screwing up. You haven’t had enough tummy time. I’ve only read a few books to you. I am not deliriously happy every second you are awake. Sometimes I want to put you down and check my e-mail. I worry I am too selfish to be a mom. But I love you to pieces, and that will be enough. I promise I will do the best I can as a mommy, but I know I won’t be perfect.
But I will always love you. And maybe someday, if you have a child, you will understand just how much.