You are still a challenge.
More so than those first few days where you mostly slept.
Now you’re developing your own rhythm, appetite, needs.
No matter how much I wish I knew, I can’t always surmise why you’re crying, I just know my heart breaks when nothing I do seems to make it better.
One month old and I would already sacrifice my own air just to stop you from shedding a tear.
The way you pout just before you let out your first wail is like a knife in my chest.
If you ever learn to use that pout I’ll be in a lot of trouble.
The way you smile, even though it isn’t on purpose yet, melts me into a puddle. Nothing makes me feel as joyful as seeing your lips curl up that little bit as you sleep or stare at your mobile.
You’ve been ravenous this week, demanding more than I’m able to produce, at least right now. You’re growing so fast. Your face has filled out and your hands have become smooth and chubby. Your eyes, when you choose to open them, are wide and bright and inquiring, a dark, steel gray color that I’m hoping won’t change, although I think I’m starting to maybe see some brown here and there.
When you’re staring at the room with your lips pursed into a tiny bow, your eyes big and shining you remind me so much of a little Who from Whoville.
There are times when I’m holding you that I still can’t believe that you’re mine; that there’s no going back to how things were before, only moving ahead and watching you grow and become more of the little boy and eventually the man you’re destined to be.
Every day is a bit different.
No day is ever 100% easy.
But every day that goes by makes me love you more and more.
My cup doesn’t just runneth over…it’s been swept away by your tide.