First letter to Max

Dear Max,

I have just finished nursing you and placed you in your crib for the night. Even though I spent a good 35 minutes in there with you, I almost wish I had sat there with you a bit longer. I know you needed to be in your crib to sleep properly and that I needed to get out here and get on with the evening chores and activities. In fact, this blog entry started writing itself in my head and I was a bit anxious to get it down while the creative juices are flowing. I’m like that. Ideas start coming to me when I’m not in a position to capture them on paper or record them in any way. However, you had fallen asleep while I was nursing you, which you never do anymore. Your little head would loll back, but you would wake up, determined to nurse some more. And part of me wanted to let you do that all night, because I know my chances to hold you like that are coming to a close.

The past six months have been the best of my life. They have been exciting, difficult, heartwarming, and heartrending. I look at you sometimes and my love for you suffuses my entire being with joy. It always happens at the oddest times. Today, it happened when I was sitting up in bed, exhausted from not sleeping well. Daddy was holding you on his lap, giving me a break from nursing to have some coffee. I hadn’t even had one sip, but I looked at your face, so happy and expectant simply because you were sitting with your parents, and I was struck again by how unbelievably beautiful you are. That feeling is better than caffeine. (Although I did still drink it. Mommy needs her caffeine. That’s another thing you will learn about me.)

My first chance to really bond with you was my second night in the hospital. It was about 11 p.m., I think, and poor Daddy had fallen asleep in two armchairs pushed together. It was our first chance to be alone since your birth. I held you in my arms (You were sleeping, too.) and I just stared. And stared. And stared some more. Your face was peaceful and glowing. Really. You seemed so perfectly content with me. And, for the first time in those two crazy days, I felt perfectly content, too. These were the moments I had been waiting for for 41 and a half weeks and really, my whole life. I looked at you for so long and just memorized your face and the way you felt in my arms. I should have been sleeping, because, like Daddy, I hadn’t slept much in the past 72 hours. It was worth it, though.

You are different than I ever imagined you would be. You’re better. And I’m better because of you. You have started me on the path to the person I’ve always wanted to be. I get up early because of you. I go to bed earl(ier) because of you. I plan meals, shop, and cook for you. (Even though you can’t eat it yet.) I’ve read entire books about sleep and learned all about feeding you as well. I’ve started going with the flow and doing whatever works at the time. Thinking on my feet. I’ve even (gasp!) started getting rid of things, including books, for you. It is perhaps ironic that having you has made me feel freer than I’ve ever felt in my whole life. You have made me brave enough to try to be a better person and not worry about the consequences. If it doesn’t work, you try something else. That’s motherhood and life, in a nutshell.

You are so adorable and so good. Those are the two things everyone mentions about you. You have the biggest blue eyes and two adorable little teeth on the bottom. You have a dimple in your left cheek when you smile and laugh, just like me and your cousin Cailyn. You are calm and relaxed most of the time. You don’t fuss much and when you do, it rarely escalates to screaming. You are so patient with your father and me. I thank you for that and will always try to do the same for you.

I love you, Max. You and your daddy are the best things that ever happened to me. You are my dream come to life. I waited so long for both of you and you were both worth every minute of the wait.

Happy first half-year, my little man.

All my love,


1 Comment

  1. Tiffany said,

    February 1, 2010 at 2:52 pm


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