Happy month birthday my love. A month. Can you believe it? Your dad and I can't believe how quickly you've become a normal part of our family and schedule. Having you here completes our family puzzle. Like placing the last piece that was lost and rolled under a chair somewhere. A piece we didn't realize we were even missing, until now. You fit even better than we hoped and imagined you would.
It's so easy to romanticize the first month. All cuddles, no work. It's why women on the street stop me asking to see you. Though you have just pooped through your pants, and I have spit up trailing down my shirt – they always remark – "I need another baby." In those moments, I remind myself to enjoy the now - the dirty, messy, stressful now. Why? Because women everywhere would love to trade me for one more day of poopy hands and sour-milk soiled blouses. It's because despite all the messes, you my boy, are a joy to have around.
Despite all the false confidences your father and I shared when you first got here, we've now realized that we don't know the first thing about babies. Even though we survived the first weeks together, it only took one night – and three hours of seemingly pointless and desperate crying – to break our faith in ourselves. Parenting is so humbling. So we went out and bought a parenting book, we sought advice from others, and I've found myself praying for patience and understanding tirelessly.
The truth is reading about colic and sleep deprivation, are totallllly different than experiencing them.
And though we have lost many hours of sleep this month, and a few other things (including our sanity at times) we have gained so much. We now have late night cuddle buddy, a gummy smile to seek, a face eager to see us at each waking. We have someone to introduce to the world, to brag on, to take millions of photos of. You have given us so many funny stories, laughs, and great memories. You have made us a family.
So if I must scrub bright orange poop off someone's clothes – I'm glad they're yours. If I must have my own breast milk spat all over me in the middle of the night – I'm glad it's by you. If someone is going to poop in our joint bath – well... I guess if you have to... Because there's nothing better than having our last piece filled in, and you in our arms.
p.s. I apologize in advance for the large volume of posts that I am about to spam you with. My computer battery died a few weeks ago, and I've been drafting these on my phone since. And due to the simplicity of having them all in the same place... well I'm posting them all today...