My sister made a pretty apt prediction. She said, "You will love your baby. But you love you, too." And that pretty much sums up the story of you and me thus far. After a demoralizing experience with breastfeeding, I quit and gave you formula. If your life depended on my breast, I would have kept with it without a single complaint. Instead, I decided not to torture myself for weeks in order to give you a marginal advantage. I got out of the house by myself a week after you were born, guilt-free. And I didn't miss you. But I kissed your tiny face to an obscene degree the second I got home, grateful for some restored balance in my life if only for that day.
I am devoted to you but I don't worship you. You're the most important thing but your dad and I are important too.
Speaking of your dad, probably the most shocking thing that has come from all of this is how much more I love him now that he's your dad. I've heard other women say that they never knew they could love someone so much until their babies were born. But your dad is still the one person who continues to redefine love for me. He's widening my capacity for it every day. I love you both in different ways but on surprisingly equal plains.
I hope when/if you ever read this, you aren't completely offended by my lack of fanfare around your arrival. Don't get me wrong. I am still convinced you are the single most important thing that has ever happened to me. I lose sleep, PRECIOUS SLEEP, over thinking about how you will grow, what you will look like, what your passions will be, what your future will hold. Your dad and I talk about how we are going to raise you more than anything else these days. And how handsome you already are. It's pretty gross. :) So no worries. You are in good hands, baby bear.