Dearest, dearest Charlie...

Dearest, dearest Charlie,

You are my heart. You are my heart, out moving around, filled with curiosity and wonder. You are my star, and you light up this dark world. There's so much going on in the nation right now that makes me want to cry: ISIS, Ebola, missing children, murderers, and more. Each day, I hear about these things on the news, but I turn away from them to look at you. Sometimes I get scared. Should I have brought an innocent, beautiful baby into a world of darkness? But then I look at you and realize the world isn't as dark as it seems. If you exist, so does goodness and love. I am thankful for you and the joy that you bring into this world, and because of God, this world is much brighter than it could be. This world is a gift, and I'm so glad you get to experience it with me.

You've really started to grow more lately, and it's making me feel a tugging in my heart. I don't necessarily want the first few days back--days one and two, where you wouldn't sleep well, and we slept in the living room, just to keep things easier and more accessible for all-nighters. But you've reached five months so quickly, and it almost hurts. It hurts in a way that is indescribable. It's not a bad pain, but it's something that tugs.

You are so beautiful as a five month old. You are getting so big; your swaddler only covers your legs now, and it used to be so big, we had to fold it down! That leaves me in amazement.

I learn from you every day. You're so happy in the morning. You are unaware of anything imperfect, and you see me with bright eyes. You smile as soon as you can, and you always smile back. You laugh at the silly little noises I make, or the books your father reads. You laugh at me moving your little feet around like you're dancing, and you laugh at daddy making funny noises. You are blissfully unaware of any bad moods or bad days. It's probably because you brighten them. Each day I come home, no matter what I've dealt with at work, I forget about it all when I see you. You erase what matters at work and you make me realize what matters at home and in my heart.

You just started cuddling more with me this past week. It started last weekend. I would pick you up, and you would lay your head on my shoulder. You hadn't done that since you were a few days or
week s old. You were a little too curious and interested in the world for a while. But you're back. And I love it.

You have been sleeping through the night all week! You finally got used to not being swaddled, and you are a wonderful sleeper. Your father and I have been very "strict" on your bed time. The truth is, mommy doesn't do well without sleep, so she knew she would have to be really scheduled with this--to help everyone. So, every night at 7 p.m., you go to bed. We give you a bath, if you need one, we read you books, and we feed you. We put you down in your crib, and we wait.

We wait on the floor next to your crib some nights. Both of us wait in your room, especially on the weekend when we aren't rushing to prepare for the next day. Sometimes your father and I lay in each other's arms, listening to you breathe, while also anxiously hoping you'll fall asleep again each night. I had a fear of no sleep before you were born, but I decided to live night by night, doing whatever we thought was right for you, and realizing that "each night is different." I've kept my expectations low, and I've stayed pleasantly surprised for the most part. I never thought I would actually be in your room because I wanted to be, but the truth is, your dad is a great story-teller, so I like to listen to him read, too, when I can. And the mystery of whether or not you will sleep keeps me interested. I want to learn as much as I can about you, and since daddy usually puts you to sleep, I stay in and hang out when I can. We both love you so much, and we just want to be near you sometimes. You want to be near us, too. You sleep on your side or your tummy now, and sometimes you sneak your way over to the wooden slats and peer down on us, as if you've "caught" us. It's adorable, although horribly distracting to you, and we have to move you back before you are able to sleep. I don't worry about you sleeping; you're a big guy now, and sleeping on your stomach is alright. I've still checked the monitor in the past two weeks more than I have since you were born.

Did I mention you're teething? Yes, you, a little five-month-old, have two teeth. Two! You started out with one, which could explain a few fussy days, and then suddenly you had two. Two little teeth are growing next to each other and showing up with your big smiles. Amazing. Sometimes I have to remind myself that you're a human being, and you're going to change, change, change, until I'm gone and you're still growing up, and you're a man. Life is just incredible, and I love you dearly.

You went to your first pumpkin patch today! You were just so darn cute. I love carrying you around to show you things, even though you will never remember it. I want to remember it, and I'll do my best, so I can tell you about it when you're older. "When we first took you to the apple festival pumpkin patch, your father and I forgot the diaper bag and money. So, we just walked around, hoping you wouldn't explode-a-poop or spit up, while stashing a t-shirt from the car in the stroller for any accidents." True story. Each little trip is so special to us this year, as they are all "firsts," and I have a fear that I'll forget some of the funniest or sweetest first moments with you. I take pictures, I live in the moment, and I write. That's how I'll remember. Then I'll tell stories to you, all the time, until you know them yourself.

Your dad and I joke: "How will we ever do this much for our second kid one day?" The truth is, we probably won't be able to. We'll be busy running after you while trying to somehow go through the early days of baby at the same time. I can't even imagine! So, no, maybe we won't do all of this for our second kid, but I'm going to hold on to each moment I have with you, because they're meant to be special. Sure, the second kid might be treated a little differently, but we will are allowed to enjoy each day with you before that time comes. Plus, they'll have you to give them attention too, so they'll be fine.

Yes, there's something super special about you, Charlie. You are our first baby, and you are teaching us how to live all over again. You are showing us what is actually important in life. You are teaching us the huge rewards for parenting, and we're listening to your doctor when he says that you're going to "keep rewarding" us the older you get. You're getting us away from our television and bringing us outside to kick a ball because it makes you giggle. You're making me happier every morning, forgetting about grumpiness. You're opening my heart to a vulnerability I never knew it had. I feel for you, I feel for other parents, I feel for people in other countries who are sick, I feel for families who have lost loved ones. It's scary how much I feel now, but it's also incredibly soothing. You're making me realize how much my parents love me. You're making me believe everything they've said. You're making me understand parents at school when they have concerns about their child. You're making me even more empathetic. You're making me sad for children who lose their parents early. You're showing me the love you have for me and your dad. You're making me pray more, and trust in God more. He gave you to me, and you're the best thing that ever happened in my life. How can I not trust? How can I not have faith? How can I not be thankful for each day?

I can't wait to see where this adventure leads us. I know it's going to be difficult, and I'm going to lose my cool. There will be some dark days ahead in life, but you'll be right next to me, right? We will get through it together. There will also be some vividly and beautifully bright days ahead, when you have to stop and remind yourself that it's real, and you'll be right next to me. We will live as much as we can, together.

Love life, Charlie. We are going to have one hell of a time.

love,
mommy