I've always been a letter writer. It seemed only appropriate that I start a blog full of letters to you when I found out I was pregnant. I wrote an entry a day faithfully for a couple of months, until life became entirely too overwhelming. But I'd like to start up that tradition again for each monthly anniversary of your birth day. I know, I know - it's such a cliche, and I have no original ideas of my own.
As the third month of your life begins, wow! I realize how much my body hurts. Holding your 15 lb. body for hours every day has really done a number on your old mom's back. Please stop growing. You're killin' me.
The second month of your life was so much easier than the first. I stopped crying every day. I got to shower every day. I got us out of the house a lot. I have to admit, though: this still isn't easy. You are sleeping better at night and becoming easier to figure out, but there are definitely times when I've wanted to put a "free baby" sign on our front porch. Especially in the evenings when you are so fussy that even the cats cringe as you wail.
But then you had to go and discover your ability to grab things. My heart melted last week as you tentatively and carefully grabbed your blanket and ever so slowly brought it to your mouth, at which point you covered it in sweet baby slobber. Later that day we sat on the front porch (the one with the phantom "free baby" sign) and I held you as you did your own version of standing up, over and over. You are such a strong little boy already.
You have managed to make everyone on the planet fall in love with you. And that includes me. Every morning, when you are happiest, I watch you as you fill the room with the light of your huge toothless grin. I love how you make your dad laugh. I love how you've started babbling and cooing and yawning with gusto. I love how you smile sneakily when I open your diaper every morning and find the nastiest poo I've ever seen. I love how you wave your arms and kick your legs while you are staring up at your mobile or the ceiling fan or your toys. I love watching you enjoy the world.
I'll have you know that bringing you into this world was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do. I've spent a lot of time thinking about the things that I missed while I was under the sweet spell of general anesthesia. It's a heart-wrenching situation for sure, but one I'm learning to move on from - with your help. Because while I did miss a few things at the very start of this adventure, there's been so much I've been a part of since. Your first smile. Your first babble. Your first bath. Your first tummy time. Your first flash of recognition at hearing my voice. So many firsts. So many more to go.
I love watching you grow, Charlie. It's so wonderfully bittersweet - but really, it's mostly sweet. And always amazing. Being your mother is the best thing I could have hoped for. So what if I was asleep during the very start of it? You've made sure that I've been awake ever since. (And speaking of, don't you think it's time you started sleeping through the night, young man?)
I love you so much, Wiggles.