Our Little Man has been here for over two weeks now.
He is currently asleep in my arms, and I don’t want to move. Because when I do, the moment will be over. And I don’t want it to be over.
I can’t stop staring.
He seems so…. perfect.
When he is nestled deep into the crevice of my arms, I can’t help but study every particle of his body. His incredibly soft cheeks, which I generously touch over and over again are plump and smush against my body. His irresistible little lips are a cherry red and pucker in various formations with each emotion. His eyes, now blue, though I think may turn brown, carry so much wisdom and soul behind them. When he stares up at me I want so desperately to hear the story that he is sharing through that gaze. His eyebrows are light, almost unseen unless inspecting every nook, and they take on the shape of his fathers’. His forehead is smooth when calm but several mounds of wrinkle form when upset. Then he looks like Benjamin Button. His ears, they’re not exactly symmetrical. So perfectly asymmetrical. He has my fingers. They are long and can spread and bend and twist in almost any direction. They will probably freak people out one day, as mine do. I call it a talent. His hair is… THERE. He. has. hair. A light walnut color. And it so perfectly flares out at the bottom from hitting the base of his neck. Because it is that long. His nose. It’s so small. And it’s so beautifully shaped. Where did it come from?
I probably shouldn’t even start on the little noises. The squeaks that emerge when he stretches while arching his back with his fists thrown above his head are irresistible. His heavy sighs speak extreme comfort and relaxation. And every so often he wheezes. And I loooove it. I become extremely excited when he burps. It says, “That was good, Mom. Thank you.” and also tells me that he won’t have a tummy ache later. Even his toots are cute. Because they come from a mini person with a mini bum. I don’t find other peoples’ toots cute. When he is gearing up for a cry, he starts out with a few grunts, a few warning signals. And if not reached in time, a stereotypical baby “Whaaa..aaa…aaa” emerges. The sounds past the initial “whaaaa” aren’t so cute though.
When people talk about “a mother’s love” I know what they’re talking about.
I have loved many people and things throughout my life. Family members. Friends. Pets. Care Bears and My Little Pony. Polly Pockets, Clifford, and Eggo waffles with peanut butter. Sleepovers, beepers, funky nail polish that I wasn’t allowed to wear, rollerblading at the roller rink, Titanic, Butterfingers, butterflies, butter spread on hot crescent rolls, Jonathan Taylor Thomas, or JTT, rootbeer floats from A&W, running through sprinklers, soft cookies, frozen yogurt, soft cookies AND frozen yogurt, all-you-can-eat sushi, baking, playing bingo at The Sands, old couples still madly in love, getting $15 massages in Mexico with the man I love, hot chocolate, Backgammon, vacations, pictures capturing memories….. and the list continues to grow.
But nothing, nothing compares to the love that I feel for my little family. It engulfs every inch of my heart. Overpowers the love of any and everything else. My Hubby and I created this life together and are responsible for the well-being and happiness of our children. We created this. We did this.
Damn, we’re good. 🙂
