Archive for March, 2010

Something tells me that this child will not want for entertainment.

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after a long, hard winter

you have to go outside

and unwind.

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I started this post five weeks ago. Every day I say to myself this is the day that I’m going to get a chance to blog, and then the day gives way to cuddling, feeding, singing, rocking, staring.

Oh the staring. My eyes never seem to get their fill of this baby.

Before I know it the day is done and I must retreat to my bed before the nighttime feedings begin.

And all I really wanted to say five weeks ago is precisely what I want to say now: I’m head over heels, madly in love with this boy.

Jude has confirmed that two weeks is more than enough time to fall in love. Two days, two hours, two minutes are more than I needed. I knew the moment the doctor lifted that round face over the curtain that my heart would never be the same.

Seven weeks ago, I sat in the hospital twirling my finger in the palm of a tiny hand and gushing about this sweet boy to my friend Jenna.  To which she responded,  “The amazing thing about having a baby,” she replied, “is that you get to fall in love all over again. You think that’s over when you get married, but then you have a baby.”

“Oh, it’s true! It’s true! That’s exactly what it’s like.”

And so I’m falling in love all over again.

The amazing thing is that there is no division in love–it isn’t parceled out to Nate and then to Ava and then to Jude. Having a baby is discovering an entirely new reservoir of love.

I have spent the past seven weeks staring and studying this small boy, getting to know him and feeling like I’ve always known him.

I get lost in his wrinkles and could spend hours counting his toes. He has ten. And each one is as kissable as the next.

How many ways can I say that I love him? I’ve already compiled a score of grunts and squeaks, and he hasn’t even started to giggle. My nose is continually searching his scalp for more sweet scents. His skin. It is so soft and so delicious.

“Are you real?” I say each day as I cup his little head in my hands. “Are you mine?”

My arms can’t seem to put him down and each time I pick him up he melts into me as if to say, “remember, we go together.”

I knew that I wanted another child, but I did not know that I would love it this much. I only have one word left.


(The first and third photos are Megan’s. If you live near the Twin Cities you should get to know Megan.)

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