Dear Eve

I've debated about writing this post for a long time. But then I reasoned that this post is for Eve... both now and when she is old enough to read it. And so I wrote it:

Dear Eve,

You are four months old now. I can't possibly put into words how much you have changed my life, but I'll certainly try. 

My main goal upon your arrival was to see if I could breastfeed. I had trouble with your sister in this realm, but with you, there was a different flow, no pun intended. We connected a bit more easily. For the first few months of feedings, the flow of milk was exceeded only slightly by the flow of joyful tears which dripped onto your precious little frame. I couldn't believe that I should have the honor of being your mother. You seemed too perfect, too amazing. 

Today we have the feeding down pat. You're a bit playful lately and paw at my neck and head with your free hand while you eat. It's adorable. You love to touch, touch, touch. 

You still like to maintain a feeding or two in the night, but it's fairly efficient. When I go to change you in the dim darkness of the room, your feet pump excitedly as your little eyes try to adjust to the amount of light. You long for me to play with you and speak, but if I do, I know I'll get you too pumped up for bedtime. Again: adorable. 

I'm a bit weary, but I've chalked that up to the next few years of my life as my energy level concedes to yours. Your little legs kick with a staccato vigor that seems impossible for your young age. My womb, however, recalls their swift strength. You love to pump, pump, pump your chubby stems in the bouncy seat and watch the dangling toys bounce above you. You are pure life, my dear. Your name is apt. 

One of my favorite parts about being your mother is knowing that in a matter of seconds I can calm you simply by holding you close. There's something spiritual, delicious and powerful about the connection a mother and baby have. And for all the emotional and physical feeding I offer you, you certainly give it back in spades. The love a baby has for its mother is astounding. I see now why some people love having gobs of babies in their house. It can be addicting.

I treasure these moments as much I can. I doubt I'll be afforded another opportunity to raise a child again and so I must soak up the last bits of every stage with my whole self. 

Well, I could write pages upon pages of how wonderful you are, but I must go to bed. Another wonderful day awaits. Another day for you to grow one step closer to grasping that toy with your fist or learning to roll over. And I must go to sleep so I can be awake for as MUCH of it as possible.

Love you, little one

Mommy