Little one.
My little one.
My dearest little one.
It's been 12 years since I decided to fight for your life.
Throwing caution to the wind.
Determined to trust God.
In everything.
During the longest 37 weeks of my life.
And you were worth it.
You are worth it.
You will always be worth it.
Today you counted down the days until your half birthday.
You challenged yourself to better yourself.
You inhaled ice cream.
You squealed as you zoomed down slides.
And you cried real tears when you broke your glasses.
And that sound still pains me through and through.
And as a glasses wearing lifer, I knew how to comfort you.
And the tears dried.
And your breathing regulated.
And you let me hold your hand as we crossed the street.
And then you were okay.
And I wasn't.
When had it happened?
There was a time only a full breast would soothe you.
And then you grew.
And you needed your back and belly rubbed.
And you grew more.
And you needed snuggles.
And today?
Just your hand held.
And I wasn't ready.
And I didn't even know it.
And that hurts more than your cries.
I have never loved anyone so deeply and easily as I love you.
You are my favorite person and my truest love.
I would choose you in every life, every time.
I don't miss the 3 am feedings.
I never will.
But the cuddles? I could use a few more.
You're the best cuddler.
I pray I raise you into greatness.
That you never have to heal from me.
That you never wish I'd done things differently.
That you grow to appreciate every sacrifice.
And that you can always come to me for comfort.
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