Today, you turned six months old. You have only been on this earth the blink of an eye and already I feel like you are growing up too fast. Each day you grow a little more independent- a little more vocal- and I can see your personality beginning to bloom.
I watch in wonder at the extreme ways you express yourself. The way you go cross-eyed staring at an object of interest and crinkle your brow as you grasp it with your little fingers. The way your eyes open wide and your whole body stiffens and shakes with joy as you lay on your changing table looking up at mommy’s silly faces. The way you explode into a cry of hunger the exact moment that you realize you want something to eat. As you grow older, and everything becomes more complicated, I hope that you can hold onto these simple expressions of emotion.
I don’t think motherhood is like the movies- where you instantly experience “a love like never before” the moment you hold your new baby in your arms. For me, it has been a silent and ever growing force. Everyday I spend with you, I love you a little more. So much so, that the thought of how much I may love you in twenty years is suffocating.
I always said that I wouldn’t let motherhood change me. And it hasn’t. I still love the same things. I still want the same things. There has just been a titanic shift in priorities. When asked if I want to go out to dinner or stay in with you, I almost always choose to stay home and snuggle with you in the Big Bed.
You bring out the best in me without even trying. I have traded vanity for singing the most ridiculous songs about everyday things. I have traded greed for thoughts of saving for our family’s future. I have traded my own pride for pride in you. You are such a blessing.
It’s funny that I spent 9 months obsessing what you might look like. Daddy’s skin color? Mommy’s eyes? Whose hair? And now that you are here, that just seems so insignificant. You are the most beautiful thing I have ever seen-even through all the cradle cap, baby acne, runny noses, red-faced tantrums, and diaper explosions. You would be, no matter what you looked like.
And yes, time flies. I can’t prevent that, but I can do my best to savor every moment of your babyhood. Taking big, slow breaths of your neck and baby scent. Singing and gesturing to This Old Man and giggling together. Cheering maniacally with daddy as you grasp a spoon for the first time.
I can speak for daddy, too, and say that you are the best thing that has ever happened to us. I can only hope that we can raise you to be the kind, generous, humorous, brilliant, independent, considerate man I know that you have the potential to be.
The world is yours, little Jax. I am honored to watch you grab it, and to hold your hand in those times when you miss.