My dearest little one,
I’m writing this one-handed, your little breaths keeping the softest metronome, your little lips pursed out as you dream of eating.
You’ll never know all the times I kissed your tiny fingers as you gripped me so tight; I promise it’s impossible to even count that high.
You’ll never know how I breathed in your skin like it was oxygen, that sweet, pure, Cream of Wheat smelling skin that gives me life.
You’ll never know how much I adored watching your lips move feverishly as you ate, a little motor that made me laugh out loud, as if you were famished – your rolls would beg to differ.
The things you’ll never know
You’ll never see what I see in your eyes – so serious at times when you were nursing, clearly a woman on a solemn mission of nutrition. Other times I’d just watch you milk drug yourself to sleep, eyes rolling back through lazy, slow blinks until you reached your happy slumber place.
You’ll never witness this spark behind your eyes – I’m not sure if anyone has seen quite what I have – I swear you look deep within me with this twinkle of wonderment because you know something I don’t – and from the looks of it, it’s something pretty amazing.
You’ll never know how I watched you sleep in your bassinet, a little burrito baby, cheeks puffed out, a fleeting smirk passing by, sometimes even a snoozing chuckle, the purest expression of joy.
My precious baby, you’ll never get to see your smile, that smile that infects anyone around you, that smile you make with your whole body, starting from your soul and bursting out from every squishy, sweet inch of you. Your mouth couldn’t grow any wider, your eyes any more elated, so your whole body is needed to express yourself.
You’ll never hear your little grunts and snorts, making your breathing sound so labored, like it was a chore, not a natural function. Everyone notices but I’m used to your signature sound, a comforting white noise soothing my ears.
My sweets, you won’t remember the songs, books, talks, and laughs we share daily, but I promise you that you’re happy – the happiest, actually.
No, you’ll never know these things, but please promise me something – I need you to try. If there’s ever a day I can’t keep you warm against my chest, safe in my arms, or comforted from my kiss, please promise me you’ll try – try to imagine this love I have for you as I’m writing this with you on my lap and know everything will be okay; that I’m always here.
Please know, no matter what evils exist in the world, I’ve seen the ultimate goodness in you, my little marshmallow – a goodness that fills in my unfortunate gaps of faith and allows me to know something greater exists. Maybe you know; maybe that’s the wonderment you flash to me through your eyes.
Please know that no boy, girl, friend, or foe is worth your tears, but know that I’ll hold you or listen to you until those tears subside. Know that my heart breaks already in awful anticipation that anything other than perfection will cross your path, but understand that I’ll help you through anything.
You’ll never understand what I’m really saying – you’ll never understand this love until you have a child of your own, but just try.
I’ll never realize how truly transient these simple moments are until they’ve passed, and while I hope and pray I’ll never forget all of your details, I know some of them will cruelly slip and fade away without any warning, and even sadder, without knowing I’ve forgotten.
I’ll never realize that I’ll be wishing for these troubles – that I’ll be wishing for tummy troubles, late night feedings, and tearful car rides when the real problems roll around.
So for now, I’ll soak it all in – I’ll try to etch that sugary milky scent deep in my nose as its pressed against your warm, doughy, pink cheeks. I’ll engrave your tiny, strong, dimpled hands as they grip tightly on my fingers so I remember your fierce strength. I’ll carve your glorious rolly thighs in my hands so I remember just how insanely magnificent your squish is.
But I’ll never capture it all, because how can one momma capture perfection?