A letter to my son 

My heart’s wonder,

Six months have passed since I first felt your warm little body placed on my belly. The overwhelming flood of love and emotion that I felt on that day of your birth has soaked deep into the very core of my being. 

I watch you as you sleep, drinking in the awesomeness of your little body, wondering at the magic of your tiny form and fighting the urge to pick you up and cuddle you close. I breathe you in when you are sitting in my lap, burying my nose in your hair and trying to imprint your smell on my memory. I cuddle and kiss you whenever you will let me. I can’t get enough of your squirming, giggling little self.

Things I love about you:

  • Your wide-mouthed laugh
  • Falling asleep with you curled against my chest
  • Your little jiggling legs 
  • Your impossibly long fringe
  • Your Surprised Emoji expression 😳

Things you enjoy:

  • Bouncing up and down to music
  • Splashing in the bath or swimming pool – your limbs go berserk 
  • Falling asleep holding our hands
  • Sweet potato
  • Chatting to Amy Bunny

 You are growing so fast and so strong. This week you sat up for the first time without any support – your back as straight as a ruler – imitating the bigger babies in your tribe. We could tell how happy you were to gain this new perspective by the smile that lit up your face. You still wobble a bit and when you get distracted you have a tendency to keel over. But when you do, you laugh because even this sensation is new and fun.

This week has also marked the start of your weaning adventure. I can see your independent nature starting to form as you like to hold the spoon and try put food in your mouth. I feel so proud of you but I will be sad to lose those precious moments of connection when I nurse you.

You are finding your voice and experimenting with news noises. I often hear you chatting to Amy Bunny in your cot, or echoing the elephant noise on your Jumperoo. My favourite sound is your laugh when you are tickled or when you bounce on our knees or when I read you Dr Seuss. You are generous with your laughter and smiles – a good thing because we treasure these more than gold.

Sometimes I lie next to you and stare into your blue eyes as you start to doze off for a nap. I think I can see the universe twinkling back at me. You seem so peaceful and alert, I wonder what you are thinking. Your little hand reaches out and feels my face and I want to capture this moment of happiness in my heart for life. 

I want to protect you from hurt, from sadness, from anger, from humiliation, from hate. I know I can’t and sometimes the fear of where your life may take you makes me cry. But I know that this is the burden a parent must bear. In the same way that a parent has been given the most wonderful gift of watching their child learn and grow, explore, laugh and love. 

I’ve never felt a love such as this and every day it grows. I am so excited to find out more about you and to be a companion with you on your travels through life. 

Oh, the Places You’ll Go.


7 thoughts on “A letter to my son 

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