A kind of love letter
Posted on | August 31, 2009 | 12 Comments
Sprout is six months old. Already. I feel a lump at the back of my throat when I write those words. When I think of him, the space inside my ribcage hardly feels big enough to contain the feeling I have for him: like a thousand rainbow helium balloons all lifting, lifting skyward.
I want to record every moment with him because every one is fleeting, but I haven’t. There are pictures, yes, but only a few quickly scribbled notes here and there that mark the passing of his babyhood —because the truth is this: I am greedy with my time with him.
I want every single moment to last.
I want the smell of him forever: soft, inexplicably sweet; the essence of these baby days when we’re curled together in the morning before our little world wakes up and the day begins, a ruckus of matchbox cars and giggles from Bean; a hot shower; the espresso grinder running.
I want to be able to forever feel the roundness of his soft darling belly, like a little fat moon when he stretches out.
I want the way he smiles at me—like I am the moon, the sun, everything at once—to go on for eternity every single time.
This has been the gift of my second son. He has allowed me to slow down and linger in these moments of early motherhood. Instead of writing about him, as I did with Bean (when I was always anxious for the next phase and in need of reassurance) I curl around him after I’ve scooped him up from a nap.
He nurses, then grins up at me and smacks his lips with satisfaction and I whisper to him, leaning close until my lips brush his babysoft cheek. I whisper about how I love him until he falls back asleep for a few perfect moments, a smile playing on his lips.
He is impossibly sweet. He spends every day grinning at everyone. He nap, he sleeps at night, he waits patiently for food, or a diaper change. He is content to play on the floor or in a laundry basket, or anywhere—as long as it is near me, or his big brother. He has just learned to sit. He is starting to crawl.
This second boy of mine has taught me something I never imagined I would learn: to mother with a kind of grace that first-time motherhood cannot afford.
I have learned that the laundry can wait, and that the dishes and bowls and pots in the sink will return to their state of clean or dirty regardless of whether I do them first, or often, or last. What matters most are kisses.
I have learned how to wait a beat before reacting with panic or frustration when he begins to cry juuust before going to sleep, and in that moment of pause I take a breath and can see how he feels this. How his body becomes soft and relaxed. How sleep comes if I give it a moment.
I have also learned that baths aren’t as essential as maybe I believed they were, and that pajamas are overrated—whatever onsie and pants he has on will do; and that making baby food is not complicated, and that with a food processor anything is possible.
I couldn’t have imagined this. I remember thinking that there was no way that I would really love him as much as I loved his brother. It was a real concern of mine. I imagined that my heart would be too small. That there wouldn’t be room in it after all the love I already had for my lanky-limbed Bean. I imagined feeling stretched, overdrawn. I didn’t believe there would be space to spare anywhere in my heart for loving some other little boy too. But oh, how I love, I love him, I love him.
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I am Christina Rosalie
Hello. I'm so happy you've stopped by!
I am a multimedia storyteller, digital strategist, idea starter, stalker of wonder, finder of four leaf clovers, MFA graduate student, and mama of boys. My first book,
will be published by SKIRT! Books in September, 2012.
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August 31st, 2009 @ 1:10 am
This is exactly how I felt when my 2nd daughter was born. The first few days of no sleep were a bit rough, but I fell so deeply in love with her personality and patient ways with me, happy, smiley and content. I miss those baby days! Cherish every moment! IT sure goes way too fast doesn’t it?!
He looks like Bean in that last shot!
tara
August 31st, 2009 @ 2:57 am
I believe this is such a gift, the second time around is so sweet and real and there is not the fear overwhelming every moment. With my first I felt like I was mothering on a balance beam, always tipping, always off balance and afraid of falling. But with my twins, I was right where I was, cuddled on the couch or rocking in the rocker. I am so grateful that I had that second experience of babyhood. It helped me mother my first on more secure ground as well.
You write about it, and I can relive it…it changes, but it never really goes away. And, by the way, he is so beautiful.
August 31st, 2009 @ 1:55 pm
Perfectly captured moments of motherhood the 2nd time around. I feel/felt the same way with my 2nd. I was calmer, less worried, and I enjoyed all of the wonderful moments so much more. I often wondered after our 2nd arrive if with my 1st those moments were there and similar but I just did not notice them because like you I worried about the next milestone or potential disaster.
He is an absolutely sweet little wee tot!
August 31st, 2009 @ 3:00 pm
I am still in the anxious hyperparanoid phase of first time motherhood. This post reminds me to slow down, enjoy it a little more. Thank you.
He is such an adorable, happy baby!
August 31st, 2009 @ 4:49 pm
I have five, the youngest just about to drive, and I can tell you it gets better the more kids you have. For me, it got easier and more rewarding, the children softer, calmer, clearer, happier, mirroring my waxing capability, my waning existential angst, and I can move into the flow of children as easily now as I can sit back with pen and paper and summon up the will to write. Heeding the advice of others dooms you to their mistakes, but I advise more children, and if I could find the women to endure me, I’d never stop.
August 31st, 2009 @ 4:50 pm
There is no way to imagine the joy of second-time motherhood just as there is no way to imagine the topsy-turvy love of the first time. It simply has to be gulped up in the moment. I remember Sophie at six-months-old so well — the sweetness, the giggles, the perpetual lump in my throat knowing she would keep growing. Sixteen months later, I’m realizing how the sweetness and giggles multiply with time. And while there’s nothing in the world as precious as a cooing baby, there’s also nothing as precious as a little voice chirping “Love you, Mommy!” Like the Grinch, my heart grows three sizes larger with each new stage.
September 1st, 2009 @ 12:34 am
“to mother with a kind of grace that first-time motherhood cannot afford” – yes, christina, i feel the same way.
it is so true … it is so much more relaxed. i feel so much more confident in my decisions with hyla than i did with porter, because i realize that it will all be okay. and you are right – all that really matters is the kisses, the snuggles, the giggles. she is 16 mths old and still breastfeeding – just at night before bed. but i really don’t seem to care. it is just so special – this bond. and i think because i know i won’t have anymore children, i seem to be trying to treasure every moment with them both the way they are RIGHT NOW.
he is absolutely beautiful – a perfect mix of you and dh. and he looks SO much like bean … wow!
September 1st, 2009 @ 9:04 am
He’s beautiful and I love how engaged he is with you/the camera here.
September 2nd, 2009 @ 2:34 am
Love doesn’t divide, it multiplies
Your boys are beautiful, but that’s no surprise. So are you.
September 9th, 2009 @ 11:23 pm
Your little boy is ADORABLE!
(Also? Hi. New reader here.)
September 12th, 2009 @ 3:42 pm
What a breathtakingly beautiful post!
December 31st, 2009 @ 3:16 am
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