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Moments

My Sweet Sunshine,

It seems like every day brings with it a new round of “firsts” for you.  Over the past four months you’ve begun to focus your eyes further and further out into the world, you’ve begun rolling over and babbling and smiling, and this week, you’ve caught your very first cold.  The past few nights have been rough.  It’s hard to eat when you can’t breathe and I can tell you aren’t feeling well during the day because instead of demanding to explore and doing your best to roll and drag (you aren’t crawling yet) yourself toward mischief and mayhem, all you seem to want is to be held close.

I’ve been sick, too (part and parcel of being the mama, I suppose) and I had big plans for today–cleaning, laundry, and generally trying to put our home together.  But now that I’ve finally gotten you to nap strapped into your carrier which is strapped to me, all I can think is that this is one of those moments.  So I’ve sat down and I’m trying to capture it while you softly snore.

Having already tried and failed a thousand times since you were born, I won’t attempt to put into words how much I love you.  I’ll just say that here we are, at the kitchen table and just thinking about it (my love for you, that is) is making me cry.  And instead of cleaning, I’m sitting here, soaking in the feeling of your tiny self held close to my heart, and kissing your sweet head every minute or so just because I can.

It won’t always be like this.  There will be ugly, difficult days when you wonder how you’ll make it through.  But right now, you are warm, full, content, and cherished.  My precious girl, if I could bottle these moments for us to have a taste later, when life may be a little less sweet, I would but all I can do is write them down.

So someday, when you’re older, I hope you’ll read these and remember how very loved you are and always will be and that sometimes the work must simply wait while you stop everything to fully live a particularly lovely moment passing by.

Tennessee Williams said it best:

We Have Not Long to Love

We have not long to love.
Light does not stay.
The tender things are those
we fold away.
Coarse fabrics are the ones
for common wear.
In silence I have watched you
comb your hair.
Intimate the silence,
dim and warm.
I could but did not, reach
to touch your arm.
I could, but do not, break
that which is still.
(Almost the faintest whisper
would be shrill.)
So moments pass as though
they wished to stay.
We have not long to love.
A night. A day….
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