Hey there, Jasper-
You’re two months old. Already. And finally.
In some ways it seems like time is screaming past; mere seconds ago I was laughing at the knowledge of you in the recovery room and now you’re practically walking. (Okay, not really. But you’re clearly physically gifted- anyone can see that.) In other ways it feels like you’ve been here forever and always; in our hearts and faces and laps. The time spent with you since your arrival has almost eradicated the memories of the lengthy, crazy pregnancy. NO SMALL FEAT, THAT.
I have a feeling I’ll be seeing this slightly incredulous look for a very long time.
The other day I was feeling kinda sad about how rapidly these two months have gone- and how quickly I know this year is going to go. Because you, J-Money, are my very last newborn, and my very last teensy tinesy person against my shoulder at 2am. But then it hit me, as it does each and every time this phase occurs with my babies (Mom Brain is quite real, Jasper, and it’s quite brutal): this is a good thing. You. Me. You, getting to grow up the way you’re supposed to. And me, getting to watch and help and experience it happening.
What. A. Flipping. Gift.
Don’t get me wrong; it’s magnificent to snuggle a ridiculously small baby and smell the newness. Good Lord, it’s beyond incredible to cocoon yourself in that miracle and hope that the rest of the world goes away for awhile. And no matter who you are or how jaded you’ve become, it IS a miracle of biology and timing and reality and DNA that produces a being you recognize and simultaneously want a million years to get to know…
But the rest of it? The part where you become a seeing, hearing, experiencing smallish member of society? How could I not be elated by that? Every week and month and year you reach should fill me with joy. Proud, astonished joy that you’re here and you’re wonderful and you’re going to do exceptional things.
It’s true. You’re very small right now (although, at 12ish pounds, you’re a downright giant compared to your sisters), but each new accomplishment will be the best thing I’ve ever seen. The way you roll from your belly to your back with a surprised coo? Exceptional. That game-winning kickball play? Exceptional. (Don’t even get me started on how I’ll react to your first State of the Union address.)
And although some part of me already (and will always) miss this oh-so-fleeting phase where I’m your everything, universe, and body pillow…I’m already in love with the boy I see you becoming. How lucky am I?
Happy two months, Jasper.
love,
Mom
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