The other night I looked at my son. I mean really looked, with all my senses. Starting at his tiny toes, moving up the soft curve of his ankle and calf, squeezing his chubby thighs, nuzzling his tummy with my nose and cheek…
His little fists and fingers were resting in mine, and I marveled at each crease on his palm, pressing gently with the pad of my fingers the dimples on the back of his hands. I made my way up his shoulders, his neck, tracing the shape of his head and shell ears, lightly feathering his baby-fine hair. I leaned down to smell his warm, sweet-earth baby smell. To feel the soft skin of his cheek on my lips. I kissed his forehead, his eyebrows, his eyes and little nose. I admired the color of his hazel greys and he looked back into my brown ones. He cooed. He smiled his big, meltingly perfect, dimpled smile. Oh, that smile. My heart flip-flops. You know me, I think. Of course you do. Your mama.
This newborn time is so fleeting. I’ll forget so much. Sometimes I think back on what it was like before he was born, resting my hands on my growing belly, him shifting and pushing beneath my skin, imagining what he would be like. Now he is here, part of our lives forever. I feel so blessed, so grateful. Tears form. Words fail. But oh, how I love, love, love this little boy of mine.