I wonder if it will be his first memory.

I wonder if his first memory has already happened & I pray it’s something wonderful.

Like mine, a Christmas morning when I’m 2 1/2 & in my grandmother’s house with the wood paneling on the living room walls.  When I close my eyes, I still see everything at eye level even though I’ve been in that house since with it’s new owners & painted walls.

Being your momma is my greatest joy, my greatest accomplishment, my greatest love in life.

At night when I kneel by your bed & you thank God for playing outside & yellow slides & tow trucks & oatmeal, my heart beats that I am so, so thankful for you.

Love always,
Momma

Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommas out there. May your day be filled with happiness & may there be pretty cake with buttercream roses on it.

If you ask Doug if he’s a good golfer, he’ll blush & tell you he’s not that great.  (hint: he’s lying)

Golf is almost religion for him, the greens his home away from home where the weight of the world falls off his shoulders.  For years, he & my father-in-law bonded over wooden tees & flags until they are the memories he thinks of most.  When we drive by a course, a little grin lights up his face & I know he’s thinking of the days when it will be him & Harrison.

We sat impatiently in the hospital room, in regular clothes with bags packed and a small boy in white cotton. My husband paced for discharge papers & I grabbed a few more diapers & formula samples to take home & the nurse cheerfully told us we would be the last to leave that afternoon. We rolled our eyes.

An hour later, I slid into the backseat next to an infant carrier with the tiny human I created, & my husband drove through Burger King because we were starving. Being last to discharge does not mean lunch in the hospital. We drove home with little fanfare – no pictures of Harrison on the front step or Doug carrying him through the door for the first time. Just one I snapped thirty minutes later because he was still sleeping in the carrier & we asked, “So what do we do with him now?” What do we do, indeed. The Momma brought an overnight bag packed for several overnights & we gave Harrison his first sponge bath, fumbling with small washcloths & wondering if we were hurting him, if he was too hot, too cold, too…loved. The Momma assured us we were doing it right & pushed us into bed, taking the night shifts for the first few nights & making sure we launched into parenthood with a few solid REM cycles. It was the best baby gift we received. The third week in October blew in cooler air &, dressed in a bridesmaids gown, I made an emergency stop in Target for fleece footed jams. I never considered them before, but 48 hours into motherhood brought the knowledge that my baby needed outfits that were warm, comfortable, & easy. My kid never wore any fussy outfits.

I felt blissed-out, completely at ease & whole in my heart. (It would be a different story in a few months, but that first week felt like my destiny.) I was sore & tired & overwhelmed, of course, but each morning The Momma & I shared a cup of coffee while Harrison napped in his swing & by the end of the week, she left during the day so I could do motherhood on my own. I made mistakes with swaddling & there was the night when he did not sleep at all, but I can’t even call the first week “surviving” – we learned & loved & did it well.

Find more posts from bloggers sharing their experiences of motherhood on the Huggies page on BlogHer.com.

Harrison loves slides.  ”Baby ‘lide?” he asks on the regular, which means “Baby wants to slide” as he calls himself Baby.

Because we call him Baby & we never even realized it until he became our tiny human parrot.

It was a little chilly that day, chillier than most of our winter weather this year.

I was thrilled to revisit the carousel, which I remembered so fondly as a little girl.  I love carousels & used to pretend to race the other children on my plastic horse.  Harrison wanted nothing to do with the moving ponies or even the huge giraffe that stood with no movement, so we sat on the benches.  I used to wonder who would choose a bench on a carousel, but now I know – mommas of irritable toddlers.

The absolute highlight of the trip was the small train that circles the park.  For $1.00 each, we rode the train & listened to the whistle & Harrison was in toddler heaven.  His little eyes stayed lit up the entire ride.

The rest of the day he made train sounds & repeatedly asked, “Bye-bye?  Choo-choo?” which meant that homeboy wanted to go back to the park with the train.  I have a feeling I’ll be hearing those questions without fail this week considering they were the first words out of his mouth on Monday morning.

It’s days like this that make my heart so happy & I think I might die for the love of my tiny family.

He burries his nose further into my neck, shifting in my lap until his legs drape down across the sides & I think back to flannel swaddling blankets.  His hand grabs my pajamas & finds it’s way into my shirt until his little palm rests upon my belly, soft from pregnancy & motherhood.  He snuggles down further until his head rests against my chest & he’s listening to my heartbeat & comforted.  He knows me inside & out, the same way I know him.

I think back to the times when I was told that this bonding would not happen as long as he fed from a bottle.  I remember the comments about how nothing could compare to the bond between a child & nursing mother & I wonder why I take that phrase so personally.  How two years later, those thoughts still sting me because I love my baby, too & I think we’re pretty okay together.  I worried I would never experience my child needing me physically & now he finally calms as his head rests against the breasts that never fed him, & I know that bonding flows deeper than milk in all mothers & babies.

I kneel beside his bed, tracing the fire trucks printed on his jammie’s as I feel him relax; it’s just one more way to know he’s mine, when a sweet hand on a warm cheek is an expression of devotion.  His eyes flutter & I notice the matchbox car still grasped in his hand & I smile. A flicker of his lashes catches my smile & he returns it sleepily. I press my mouth to the edge of his bed rail to stifle my giggle; there’s something about it all that made me feel like I just took a swig of warm cider & it’s home & love sliding all the way down.

I love everything about him, from the blonde curls to the little snores  & my heart swells & I think it might burst, but it simply grows & I think that’s the beauty of a mother’s heart – the infinite ability to love.

OH MY TODDLER EYES, SUGAR!

I can blow the candle out now, right?

I’m a weird, thrilled, sappy, happy emotional mess.

Dear ovaries worldwide,
BOOM.

love,
Harrison

My heart cannot take this kind of magic.