Dear Harrison,
I struggle to begin this letter because all I want it to say is “I love you. & everything I do, I do it for you.” But a) that’s too cheesy & b) I’m pretty sure Bryan Adams would take issue on a copyright rampage. Harrison, sometimes it breaks my heart knowing how much of your life I have already missed, thanks to PPD, work, & hospitilization. I feel an overwhelming sense of grief & anger at how fast the time flies, but then I look down at your sweet face & know how steadfast & resilient you are (just like your Daddy) & I know that everything will be okay.
Baby, I know I’ve told you this before, but what has happened to me is NOT YOUR FAULT. I will tell you all about it one day, or you may read this, but know that while the past week has been hard on your little heart that’s only been beating a little over a year, I did this out of love, keeping my promise that I will do anything to keep you safe, happy, & to have a mother that can give you 150% of her being.
Because, Harry, I love you. & everything I do, I do it for you.
Love,
Momma
Harrison, 7 months.
p.s. you amaze me every day. you’re crawling, pulling up, & even CRUISING on furniture at times until i want to knock you down & say “not so fast, buster!” but instead, i’m cheering you on with open arms & a cheesy smile, glowing with pride at your ability to crawl & say “babababababa” at the same time. p.p.s. when i’m 99.9 ears old & crawling around while gurgling “bababababa,” i hope you return the favor & cheer me on with pride. p.s.p.s. (or whatever the next thing is after p.p.s.) you’re still allergic to dairy. damn it.
