A Letter From Mom
Dear Margo,
I started writing you a letter to mark your two week-iversary. I didn't manage to get it finished. Three weeks came and went, and I thought, "One month-iversary. I'll write Margo a letter on the blog when she hits the one month mark." Well, that was Tuesday; it's Thursday now but I am finally sitting down to record some thoughts on your first month (ish) of life. It helps immensely that you are sleeping downstairs on the couch, with Grandma sitting vigil.
So far, I know that I love you more than words can say. When you're snuggled up on my chest, with your head tucked under my chin, I couldn't be happier. You love being cuddled, and I am hoping that you will retain this long into your childhood. I'm a huggy person, so am hopeful that you will be too!
Already like your dad, you have the ability to make me laugh (and talk in a strange high squeaky voice - I'm hoping the latter goes away soon). You make the funniest faces in the bath, after the bath, around the bath. You love getting bathed. Case in point:
When you sleep you are the most peaceful bundle of love I've ever laid eyes on (until it's time for you to wake up, then you're not quite the pacifist.) I love watching you stretch after a good hard snooze - it reminds me of when you were inside of me and stretching after a nap. And about that . . . a day does not go by when I don't marvel at the miracle that I grew you, you little perfect human ball of pure potential.
For that's what I see when I look at you. A little girl with the world of possibilities laying before her. It's an amazing feeling to know that you can do whatever you want, and also an immense sense of responsibility I feel as a woman to foster your independence, your strength, and a sense of wonder. During the hardest parts of labour, the midwife reminded me to "Dig Deep, Donna. Find your strength." Although I know she was talking about the immediate need for me to focus and bring you into this world, she was talking about so much more.
You've changed my life, little girl. Thank you so much for being here. I look forward to writing many more letters to you in the months/years to come.
Love,
Mom.
I started writing you a letter to mark your two week-iversary. I didn't manage to get it finished. Three weeks came and went, and I thought, "One month-iversary. I'll write Margo a letter on the blog when she hits the one month mark." Well, that was Tuesday; it's Thursday now but I am finally sitting down to record some thoughts on your first month (ish) of life. It helps immensely that you are sleeping downstairs on the couch, with Grandma sitting vigil.
So far, I know that I love you more than words can say. When you're snuggled up on my chest, with your head tucked under my chin, I couldn't be happier. You love being cuddled, and I am hoping that you will retain this long into your childhood. I'm a huggy person, so am hopeful that you will be too!
Already like your dad, you have the ability to make me laugh (and talk in a strange high squeaky voice - I'm hoping the latter goes away soon). You make the funniest faces in the bath, after the bath, around the bath. You love getting bathed. Case in point:
When you sleep you are the most peaceful bundle of love I've ever laid eyes on (until it's time for you to wake up, then you're not quite the pacifist.) I love watching you stretch after a good hard snooze - it reminds me of when you were inside of me and stretching after a nap. And about that . . . a day does not go by when I don't marvel at the miracle that I grew you, you little perfect human ball of pure potential.
For that's what I see when I look at you. A little girl with the world of possibilities laying before her. It's an amazing feeling to know that you can do whatever you want, and also an immense sense of responsibility I feel as a woman to foster your independence, your strength, and a sense of wonder. During the hardest parts of labour, the midwife reminded me to "Dig Deep, Donna. Find your strength." Although I know she was talking about the immediate need for me to focus and bring you into this world, she was talking about so much more.
You've changed my life, little girl. Thank you so much for being here. I look forward to writing many more letters to you in the months/years to come.
Love,
Mom.
This entry was posted
on Thursday, October 12, 2006 at 1:57 p.m..
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9:07 p.m.Beautiful letter!
12:55 a.m.
Wow! I render me speechless. Margo has a priceless gift in both the letter(s) and having you as a mother.
It's a miracle how they can make you feel, isn't it?
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