Today I held you. I watched you sleep. I said to hell with my list of errands and my mile long to-do list and hello to your little closed eyes, your tiny lips sucking on your pacifier and your sweaty head laying against my chest.
I stared at you, smelled you and felt your heart beat against mine. You grasped my finger and I grasped back. Your eyes flickered as you slept–totally unaware that I was memorizing your every breath.
Your perfect little nose.
Your delicate hands.
Your round, pudgy cheeks.
Your double chin.
I didn’t have the luxury of doing this with your sister. I was too depressed. Too concerned with the house being clean. Too exhausted to realize I was throwing away one of the most precious stages of her existence.
But with you I’m making a different choice. I’m not depressed. I don’t care if the house is clean, it can be dirty for a couple days. And I’m not allowing this stage to bring me down.
The days are long, but your first year will be quick. And I’m afraid if I close my eyes that I might miss something. A crooked smile, a gassy giggle, the nuzzling of your slobbery cheek into my neck.
And then it will be over. All of it gone and only the memories to look back on. No more napping in my arms, cooing at my funny faces or midnight diaper changes. No more excuses to spend the day in our pajamas or not shower for a week.
And even though I’m tired.
Roma, my dear sweet girl… I’ve never felt more awake.
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