Morgan has a little cold

Dear Morgan,

You’ve had a little cold the past 2 days. Last night was a rough one- but that is really a silly statement. You are such a sweetheart that you don’t really cry, just sort of whine and wiggle around. It’s heartbreaking because you look at me with big teary eyes like “I don’t feel good. Fix it.” The responsibility is overwhelming. The trust and love that pours out of that one look is what makes all the clichés about being a mother feel true – I’d jump in front of a bus to save you, would give anything for you.

Last night daddy had to go to bed early because of work so you were all mine. I’d given you medicine, a bath, suctioned your nose, a bottle, bounced you, rubbed you with baby mentholated cream; nothing could make you comfortable. Finally, I found a comfy position and settled into the rocking chair. It is one of my most peaceful places; Rocking one of my babies. I sat there watching you as you slowly nestled into that place right before sleep. You always reach up and stroke my face. Your tiny fingers curl back and forth against my skin. It always makes me smile when you do it to daddy because it is such a sweet gesture, he is completely enraptured by you, and I can tell already you love his beard (me too). I love to have you hold my finger. You can never just hold it, even when the rest of your body is giving in; your hands will open and close around my finger or against my arm or against my face.

I sat in the dark listening to your brother’s even breathing in the crib next to us and feeling you get heavier and heavier as you gave in to sleep. I couldn’t help smiling as I watched him curl around his blanket, his fingers rubbing the silk edge even in his sleep and looked down at you with your chubby little hands pulsing around my finger. The cats always stalk around to check on us – they pretend not to like you guys, but they are very interested and protective. I never (well, rarely) begrudge the times that I’ve had to get up or sit up in the night with either your brother or you. It makes me feel important and needed. I like being the person that makes you feel safe and better.

I rocked and started thinking about this letter and all the advice people gave me when I became a parent. Lot’s of people warned us how little sleep we were going to get having two babies so close together. They said we would be running ragged and feeling crazy. Those people didn’t know you guys. Every time I have a chance to snuggle you like that I try to hold on to and savor every moment. It’s a conscious thought and I try to seer the feelings, sounds, and smells into my memory. You grow so fast and soon you won’t need me to rock you to sleep or find your binky in the night or hold you when you wake up scared.

The first time I held you, you weren’t even the length of my arm. Your little head fit in the palm of my hand. Now, just 6 months later you are already such a big girl. Sitting up, opinions and emotions of your own, rolling over, playing with toys and yelling at Aidan when he snatches them. I think having kids makes time go faster. Each phase both of you have gone through is my favorite. I love watching you learn and grow and change on what seems like a daily basis.

Tonight when daddy got home from work he got the first real smile of the whole day. You two have a special connection. Even with your watery eyes and runny nose you gave him a big smile and giggle. He picked you up and snuggled you tight and for a few minutes you forgot you were sick. You adore both the boys in this house so much. Aidan and Daddy make you light up and wiggle with happiness. No one can make you laugh like daddy and watching you watch Aidan brings to mind the term “hero worship. I just can’t compete with the boys in this house; nor do I want to. You and I will have a special relationship all our own as time goes on. I’m choosing right now to believe that we won’t go through the typical “mother/daughter years” – I can’t even imagine it. (I’ll eat that crow later)

I wrote this letter so I will never forget how it feels to hold you and rock you to sleep. It makes me think about and appreciate my mom. She did this and felt this for me. It’s something you truly can’t understand until you do it yourself. If you choose to have children, I can’t wait to have that conversation. When you call and say “Mom, remember the letter you wrote about rocking me? Now I understand.”

I hope you feel better tomorrow, sweet baby. For now, you are sleeping soundly in your bed after another good while of rocking.

I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always.

Mom