Three Months

Dear Matthew,

Three months. I didn't know that in such a short amount of time I could feel so fused, so entwined with a human being who wasn't born from my own body. I also didn't know it was possible to feel this stressed for so long. When we were in the hospital, after the metaphorical caca hit the metaphorical fan and after I spent the entire first night of your birthed life shaking and vomiting from the sheer weight of it all, I reevaluated. From some strange inner reserve I believed that I could do this. I could care for you one day at a time until a court ordered me to hand you over. Now I know the impossibility of that task. Matthew, with three months reduced to mere memories, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that if you don't remain in our home I will crumble. Life will go on and the world will keep turning and the sun will continue to rise but I will be irrevocably changed. If I allow myself to think about losing you I feel a twisty, aching lump somewhere near my diaphragm. Something in the recesses of my mind tells me it would be the worst grief I've ever experienced. The tiny lump would be a grapefruit sized tumor constricting my breath, pushing into my heart, shoving all of my insides into each other so that, while they continue to function, everything hurts.

I don't think about this on an hourly basis anymore. In fact, I find that days go by without court proceedings crossing my mind. This has something to do with denial, yes, but is mostly because of you. Matthew, you make it impossible to walk around in a stressed stupor. You are so sunny, so beautiful, so innocent and wonderful that you make everything better.

This month you rolled from your tummy to your back although it should be noted that you hardly ever do it. You detest "tummy time" and if I put you on your stomach it's quite likely that you'll be shrieking in a matter of moments. On those rare occasions when you're actually happy on your belly, you have no problem rolling right over.

You've been smiling at anything and everything since you were really tiny but this month, you looked right at me and laughed. On Mother's Day. It was a small little chuckle but you couldn't have done it on a better day. My heart was filled to the brim with happiness and love for you. Of course, I love you even when you're throwing a fit. You have a serious little temper and, when you get really mad, your face contorts into this really painful and awful looking scrunch. We're working on it.

This month you began sleeping through the night very consistently. You first got through the night without eating on April 28. You would still wake up once wanting the pacifier back in your mouth. About two weeks later you slept through without one of us putting your paci back in. We moved your bed into Garrett's bedroom and for the last three nights the two of you have shared a room. You go right to sleep and don't seem to be bothered by your brother singing, carrying on about roosters, getting up to go potty, putting his stuffed animals on top of your legs, and generally being a pest. But oh how he is a pest who adores you. Yesterday we were at the grocery store and you would not stay awake. I desperately wanted you to be awake so that you would take a good nap later. Garrett constantly tickled you and rubbed your face to keep you awake. For the most part, it worked. At one point I turned back to the cart just in time to hear him whisper to you, "I love you so much, brother." As if we couldn't tell by the amount of kisses he smothers you in.

I unofficially weighed and measured you today. You weigh nearly as much as your brother did at six months. You're about 13 lbs 13 oz and 23 inches long. This puts you around the 64% for weight and the 20% for length. You're a chub but you are so interactive and adorable...it's difficult for me to get anything done around here what with all the kisses and hugs I'm busy bestowing upon your short little body.