Rocking You

Dear Brixton,

Sometimes I can't believe you're here.

It's been a month.  A month of adjustments, of hundreds of bottle-washings, of stubbing-my-toe-in-the-middle-of-the-night feedings, of pumping, and of course, of loving you.

I rocked you tonight.  Your head fit perfectly on my shoulder, the smallness of it relaxing in to the soft space between the collar bone and shoulder.  I couldn't help but breathe you in, you have your own scent now that I recognize and it fills me with tenderness. 

I washed your hair again with my tears.  More tears.  I couldn't hold you close enough tonight.  I couldn't press you until you were inside of me, even closer to my heart, filling my heart.  I can't protect you inside of me anymore, those days have passed.  

You looked up at me as I cried with a look so innocent, a brow so furrowed and eyes so deep and dark that I had to turn my face away.  

I placed you in your bassinet and so wished I too was small enough to curl up next to you there.  To breathe in more of you, to feel the grasp of your tiny hand around my finger and to feel the soft warmth of your head on my cheek.

It's beautiful, this life.

Love,
Mamma