Dear Will,
You are three months old today.
Everyone told me that three months is a big milestone, and as it turns out, everyone was right. Over the past week or so, you seem almost like a different baby to me. The tiny infant who slept all day and just woke up to eat is suddenly a sturdy baby who bats at toys, smiles all the time, and sees absolutely everything. Your big blue eyes are always open, always looking around, taking in this new world that you are just getting to know, claiming your little slice of it.
Just this week you started babbling to yourself. You talk and talk and smile and then look at me and laugh a little and then start all over again. I know that it's still awhile away, but I can already imagine those little babbles turning into real words and that startles me as much as it thrills me because it feels like time is flying by, faster and faster every day. Sometimes I feel a little manic, trying to memorialize all of your moments. Maybe it's the natural result of raising a baby in the age of Facebook and Instagram, but I sometimes feel like if there isn't a picture of it, then it must not have happened. But then I remind myself to put down the camera and really look at you because even though I might not remember every single little moment, I will never really forget these months, and how it was when you were a newborn baby and we were just getting to know each other and when you taught me how to be a mom.
And you are, you know. Teaching me. When you were born and they handed you to me I looked at you and in that moment I realized just how little I actually knew. In a single second I went from not-a-mom to a mom, and they were going to send me home with you and it was my job to figure out how to do it, and how daunting is that? But what I have learned over the past three months is that motherhood is not a one-sized-fits-all proposition. Every baby is different and every mother is different, and when I stop and watch and listen, you let me know exactly what you need.
It turns out that I am exactly what you need, and that surprises me more than anything. Because for all of the thinking and planing I did when we were waiting for you to get here, I wasn't sure if I was going to be any good at being a mom, or whether I would even like it. But as it turns out, I am, and I do. It was a little rocky at first, but I suspect that's the way it's supposed to be. And as we've settled in and started to figure each other out, I have started to think a lot about how it's going to be as you get older, and all the experiences I want you to have and the things that I want to show you. Hold on tight little babe, because I have big, big plans for us.
Just this week you started babbling to yourself. You talk and talk and smile and then look at me and laugh a little and then start all over again. I know that it's still awhile away, but I can already imagine those little babbles turning into real words and that startles me as much as it thrills me because it feels like time is flying by, faster and faster every day. Sometimes I feel a little manic, trying to memorialize all of your moments. Maybe it's the natural result of raising a baby in the age of Facebook and Instagram, but I sometimes feel like if there isn't a picture of it, then it must not have happened. But then I remind myself to put down the camera and really look at you because even though I might not remember every single little moment, I will never really forget these months, and how it was when you were a newborn baby and we were just getting to know each other and when you taught me how to be a mom.
And you are, you know. Teaching me. When you were born and they handed you to me I looked at you and in that moment I realized just how little I actually knew. In a single second I went from not-a-mom to a mom, and they were going to send me home with you and it was my job to figure out how to do it, and how daunting is that? But what I have learned over the past three months is that motherhood is not a one-sized-fits-all proposition. Every baby is different and every mother is different, and when I stop and watch and listen, you let me know exactly what you need.
It turns out that I am exactly what you need, and that surprises me more than anything. Because for all of the thinking and planing I did when we were waiting for you to get here, I wasn't sure if I was going to be any good at being a mom, or whether I would even like it. But as it turns out, I am, and I do. It was a little rocky at first, but I suspect that's the way it's supposed to be. And as we've settled in and started to figure each other out, I have started to think a lot about how it's going to be as you get older, and all the experiences I want you to have and the things that I want to show you. Hold on tight little babe, because I have big, big plans for us.
You might not believe it, but I am going back to work in about a month, and to be honest, I can hardly even imagine what it's going to be like. You don't know this, but once upon a time, as little as three months ago, I used to hop on a train to Manhattan every day to go be a lawyer. I worked until late at night and then I came home and your daddy and I would eat dinner and spend some time together and then we would go to sleep so we could do it all over again in the morning. Typing this as I watch you sleep next to me on the couch, that life feels utterly foreign to me. Like the lawyer in me has taken a backseat since the day you were born while I became a mom. And in a few short weeks I am going to have to drop you off at daycare and don my lawyer hat, and I'm not sure if I even know how to do that anymore. But there's time enough to figure all of that out. Because today, sitting with you, that day still seems like a long time away. There are still lots of hugs and snuggles and learning to be done before then, and we'll soak it all in, you and I.
It's a remarkable thing, really, to watch your baby get bigger. It's strange because in those first few weeks, caught in the newborn haze of diapers and feedings and sleepless nights, I forgot that you are not going to be small forever. That you are going to grow into a boy and one day, into a man, and it's my job to grow you up well. I want more than anything to get this right, and since you just woke up, looked at me, and smiled big, I think I've got a good start. We'll figure the rest out together.
Thanks for being mine, my sweet Will. I wouldn't have it any other way.
With love as big as the sky,
Mom
Thanks for being mine, my sweet Will. I wouldn't have it any other way.
With love as big as the sky,
Mom
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