I woke to a baby nestled into me. Nursing at the breast. Restless. Ready to greet the new day. I look down at him, the same as every morning. A smile. Wide eyes. The brightest smile I’ve ever seen. And it was to me. His mama. And my heart couldn’t be more full with warmth. Even after a restless night. Like the night before. And the night before that. Actually, every night for the last seven months. And probably before that, while the little one was tucked safely underneath my heart. But I don’t mind, because you are mine. And I am yours. And there is warm coffee and cream waiting for me. My favorite mug. And plenty of future naps. I steal a few quiet moments to listen to you babble before we leave the comfort of our bed. The sweetest little voice. Then we begin our journey down the stairs. Stepping over sleeping dogs stretched along the hallway floor. The house is still. Dad...
Good morning Beckett, I’ve been trying to be good at documenting your life- so that someday, when you're older, you can come back here and read about it. All your firsts. All our adventures. What life was like when you were born. What our house sounded like. What our mornings were like. I’ve documented your siblings and what life has been like for them. So while you’re small and growing I’m trying to document you- so I remember. The first few months weren’t necessarily hard, we just had to adjust to a little one again. I was tired and could barely function. You wanted to be with me all the time. You wanted to nurse a lot. You slept a lot, right on me- but I did not mind at all. I loved every minute of being with you. Daddy woke up in the middle of the night the first few weeks to help me change your diapers and made sure I was comfortable. But it was usually just you and I. Nursing you, rocking you back to sleep in those quiet morning hours. We were busy with a n...