…about nights and mornings.

Last night, I squeezed your little toesies into your red, white and blue Fourth of July pajamas for the last time. As I zipped up your footie pajamas to your adorable chin, I told your Daddy so, and he said to me, “You’re retiring these pajamas?” And I responded, “Yes, his feet don’t fit well in them anymore.”

But, the real truth is, baby boy…

…all of you doesn’t fit too well in these little pajamas anymore.


You’ll be four months old next week, and it’s like someone whispered that fact to you in the middle of the night, when our house is quiet, when all that can be heard from our little corner of life here are sighs and deep breaths and rustling covers and, a few times during the night, tiny, barely-audible baby gulps as you nurse. But at nightime, when the dream fairies dance in our heads and create magical dreams of milk and Mama (for you), of soccer and competition (for your Daddy), of doggie bones and never-ending games of fetch (for Wyatt the Dog), and of Barney Stinson from “How I Met Your Mother” (for Mama), I’m convinced that one little fairy sneaks her way into our bedroom each night and whispers in your ear. Grow, little boy, she says. Don’t you know that you’re almost four months old? It’s time to retire those little baby clothes. Just keep growing big and strong. And when we all wake up in the morning, we look into your deep green-hazel-brown-blue-we-aren’t-sure-yet pools for eyes, and we swear that you grew two inches overnight. We swear that you grow when we look away, for seconds at at time.


When you were born, we let you teach us what it meant to be parents, to be your parents. And what you taught me first, L, is how a snuggle can change a cranky moment into a time of sweet curiosity. When I hold you close, a day of gloomy clouds or too-hot temperatures morphs into the perfect hour for open windows, feeling the breeze, taking in the wonder of the weather here on the plains, from its expansive beauty and repetitive corn fields to our town’s temperatures – slightly-cool-but-with-warm-undertones.

But what I’ve learned the most from you in these past {almost} four months with you, sweet boy? You come alive in the morning. It’s like the world signals to you that the sun has piloted its way from the sky’s depths, said hello to the moon as it passes by, and is slowly creeping into position to light the day. But, dear boy, the most beautiful thing about you in the morning is what I learned from you about myself in those first few emotion-filled days of your life: a snuggle can change the tide, not just for you, but for me as well.


You and I spend our mornings, after Daddy leaves for work, snuggled up together, your chest making friends with my belly, where you used to reside not so long ago. My arms wrap around you and pull you close enough to smell that blissful baby smell (which, in our house, smells like California Baby lotion and something else, something so fleeting, so precious that I’m convinced that the fairies must sprinkle you with sweet-smelling blessings as you dream). You take your breaths in measure to mine, two or three for every one that I take in. And when you start to fuss, I pull you to my chest so that you can hear my heartbeat, the noise that you heard for so many months before you joined our world.

It’s in this little cocoon that we exist, you and I together, for many hours in the morning. Without fail, each morning, the day’s light begins to peek through the curtains, alerting me of the advent of day. Yet that signals to me only to pull you closer, no matter if it’s nearing noon, no matter if my tummy rumbles or my throat is dry – for no one knows how many more mornings you will long for the comfort of your Mama.

Nights and mornings – and everything in between – are so sweet with you, dear child.

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Hi! I’m Sara.

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