Dear baby boy,
I want to start off by saying sorry. I’m sorry for crying. The entire way to the hospital. The morning you were born. Out of guilt for the fear of ruining your sister’s life. And I’m sorry for ever thinking I couldn’t love you as fully and completely as I love your sister. Because, boy, was I wrong.
From the moment I met you, I knew my world, my life, and my heart would never be the same. I finally understood that love is something that cannot be measured or contained. You burst my heart wide open once again and I knew, immediately, I’d fallen head over heels in love for the third time in my life.
I’m sorry I can’t seem to put you down. It’s something I promised myself I would do: make you more independent and self-reliant than your sister. But as a bundle of cuteness with all of your newness, I just can’t seem to bring myself to let you out of my sight or hands for a single second.
After all, I know how fast these moments pass. I know how fast the newness wears off. And I know how fast you’ll change, and I don’t want to miss a moment. Your sister taught me this. So maybe I’m not sorry for this one.
I’m sorry I haven’t written a word in your baby book. In fact, I’m sorry you didn’t even have a baby book until the day you were born (thanks for that, Nana). I’m not trying to make excuses, but, you see, with a wild toddler and a tiny newborn (both extremely needy), I haven’t exactly had a ton of spare time (or any for that matter).
I’m sorry for how forceful your sister loves you. She can be a bit aggressive in the kiss and hug and tickle departments, but she means well. And she wants to hold you ALLLLL of the time. (Actually, this is another one I’m really not sorry for, because it’s just so darn cute. And I hope it lasts forever). I actually love the way she loves you.
Next, there are so many things I love about you.
I love your crooked grin and sweet, sleepy chuckle. I love your noisy yawn and the way you sometimes sleep with one eye open. I love your pointy ear and the way you grunt until you get what you want. The way you snort like a little piggy and root around…
I love how you act like a baby bird when you’re hungry and the way you inch your way into the position you want to be held. And I love the sound of your hiccups that you get every time after burping. I love everything about you.
Because I’m an English teacher and also have a strong love of words, I often wonder why I can’t find one powerful enough to express all of my feelings for you. How can I possibly describe my love for you without using a million verbs, adjectives, and exclamation points? The answer is I can’t. Proof, again, that love cannot be contained. Not even in a word.
Just know that I love you with all of my heart, all of my soul, all of my being. I love you entirely.