Dear Harrison,

This is typically the place where I should say something cliche & cheesy like, “Oh, you’ve been out as long as you’ve been in!” but we all know that would be a lie.  BECAUSE YOU TOOK FOREVER TO COOK, KID.  & you don’t get to hold that honor of even baking on both sides of the uterus until a few weeks from now.  But still, when I say “nine months,” I literally have to suck in my breath & will myself to breathe that yes, the past nine months have occurred.  All the wonderful & trying…it all occurred because of you.  & I cannot believe that it has been a full nine months since I first held you & listened to your first cry.

I also cannot believe it is only three months until your first birthday.

But I can’t think about that or else I will cry.

In nine short months, you have come so far.  On that first day, I wondered who you would be, what you would do, & how we would survive.  (& believe it or not, we have survived!)  You are sweet.  You are strong.  You are independent, rarely up for a good snuggle, & always on the move.  You took steps by nine months, but still grin with a gummy, tooth-less smile.  You love bananas & chocolate Cheerios & above all, oatmeal.  You talk.  Loudly.  You laugh.  Even louder, & like your momma.  You chase balls around the room, pushing them away & the crawling with lightening speed.  Like baby soccer.  & I’m so tempted to pull out my vuvuzela just to sound to the world HOW FREAKIN’ AWESOME you are.  Because baby, you are REALLY FREAKIN’ AWESOME.  & I’m so thankful that I can say that with such resounding truth in my own heart, to claim you as mine, & mean it down to my toes that I don’t care how long it took us to get here.

& tonight, when we rocked with my nose on your cheek, inhaling your sweet baby scent, I closed my eyes & simply breathed in the smell & sounds of the rocking chair & bottle & felt morphed back nine months.  To a hospital room with a hot little bundle, to a tiny bottle & sweet sucking noises with tiny fingers wrapped around my pinky.  It’s not so different these days, when I simply close my eyes.

I love you always.

Love,

Momma

Harrison, 9 months.