Full

I know exactly when your door knob is going to pop when I am sneaking in to peek on you before I got to sleep. There must be a faulty spring about 3/4 of a turn in. I don't look in on you every night, only when your dad is at work. In my mind, I think that somehow his extra pair of ears would tell me if something was wrong and when he is gone, I can never sleep until I make sure.

First I hear your breathing. Maybe the best sound. So soft and calm, I could listen to a recording of it. I always place my hand on your back, not because I have to, because it helps me somehow to feel your warmth through your fuzzy jammies.

I was thinking a lot tonight about what I want for you. Mostly because this new baby is making me re-evalute what I want to myself, as a woman, as a wife and as a mother. I love my life right now. I am so, so in love with it. I have got you. My love of all loves. Your papa, who I love more than ever just because of the way he scoops you up when he gets home from work. My easy work schedule, plenty of time with all of us laying around, drinking each other in. This new little bean floating in me. Safe. Happy. Content. But mostly Full.

I want you to feel full in your life. Full of love. Full of beautiful memories. Full of good lessons. Full of hope. Full of grace. Full of confidence.

I don't want you to ever feel empty or lost or scared, although I know you will. We all find ourselves, at the end of some unwanted road, empty and alone. And when you are grown, and tall and beautiful and not living under my roof, that you can come through the kitchen door in the middle of the night, your broken heart dragging behind and wake me up. And I will hold you. And I will be a source of never-ending, never faltering love. Forever. I just want you to know that.



PS: I am actually a really funny person in real life. But for some reason, when I write to you, I become incredibly sappy and I cannot seem to turn it off. Oh well... I make you laugh at least once a day, too.