Broken and Fixed and Broken

Dear Bubba (we call you that a lot now that you're adding a little chub to your physique),

I'm typing one-handed right now.  I think that about sums up the past few weeks.  That may sound silly, but let me explain.  Daddy went back to work, so we have been spending our days hanging out just the two of us.  I've started lots of other posts for this (many of them also done one-armed while you sleep on the other), and I have the best of intentions to finish them.  I wanted this all to be perfect for you, and I wanted to document every last second with you so that I would not forget a single moment.  I was waiting to even post and publish everything until I had it polished and could put everything in chronological order, instead of the scattered chaos of drafts currently occupying my computer.  But nothing is quite polished these days, is it?  After all, I already told you I'm typing one-handed.

The truth is that as much as I want to have a record of every second of every day of your life, actually living every second with you is more important and has put everything else on the back burner.  I want to be with you all of the time, even when you're sleeping (hence all the unfinished business).  I do just enough every day to feel some small sense of accomplishment- I shower, make the bed, take care of the laundry, visit with friends, and cook dinner- but I rush through it all just to get back to the times when I can snuggle with you.  The countdown until I go back to work is more and more present in my mind with each day that passes, and I just want to cherish all of our little moments together because I know I can never get them back.

You're too little to do any of the "big" things yet, but all the little things you do seem so big to me.  I love to watch you sleep.  You surrender to me in complete and total trust.  You make the cutest little faces and wriggle yourself into poses that have me constantly taking out my phone to take pictures of your every move.  Daddy loves to get these at work.  I love when you are awake and walk around the house with me with your tiny arm wrapped around my shoulder.  I will miss the way you cling to me like that when it's time for us to both be a little more independent.  I love that we know when you're going "number two" because you make grunting noises and clench your fists, and your face gets all angry.  I can't tell you how much that cracks us up.  I love that we can have "conversations" now where you respond to my questions and comments with your own little squeaks and squeals and noises.  I know it's probably all in my head and you're too young for that to actually be true, but I swear sometimes we really communicate.  I LOVE that every now and then, you're finally sneaking in a little smile.  I say finally because we have just been dying for you to smile since before you were even born!  There are endless other things that I love about you, but my one hand is getting tired, and I have so much more to say.

I must admit to you that this morning was rough.  You threw up all over my pillow and me, and I felt as if all that time I had just spent nursing you kind of went to waste... all down my side and even into my pants.  You woke up early and wanted to eat and eat and eat and not go back to your crib and not go back to sleep.  While we were playing, you filled your diaper so much that it leaked all over, further soiling the sheets (which means now I will have to take some time away from you to do more laundry and change the bed).  I was hungry and thirsty and tired and desperate for a shower.  None of that was even really a big deal, though.  I'm used to it.  I don't get mad at you or frustrated with you because you're just a baby.  I don't want you to feel anything but pure love and joy radiating from me to you.  You just do what babies do.  In fact, I think you're even better than most babies.  You have really been such a good boy.

What made this morning rough was something different.  I put you in your bassinet the way I always do so that I could take a quick shower.  I turned around for what I swear was only two seconds, and I heard you screaming like you have never screamed before.  I rushed back to you and found that one of your crazy thrashing legs had gotten stuck between two bars of the bassinet, and you were screaming and crying as you tried unsuccessfully to get it out.  I pulled it out as quickly as I could and swooped you up to me.  Your little leg was bright red, and I was frantic.  You wouldn't stop crying, and I was devastated.  I thought you had broken your leg... and now it would never grow... and you would have to live your life with one regular leg and one that was feet shorter... and it was all my fault... and why did I need a stupid shower anyway... you get the picture.  I know it sounds dumb now.  I was just so worried for you.  When I still hadn't gotten you to calm down fifteen minutes later, I called your dad.  I was clearly a mess because he said right away that he would come home.

I finally calmed you down and got you to eat, which comforted you even more (you may look just like your daddy, but you are so my kid too... haha).  Your dad came home and calmed me down.  He assured me that you seemed fine finally and that I am not the worst mom in the world.  He stayed long enough for me to get a shower and to eat, bless his heart.  Have I told you yet how amazing he is?  That's way more than I can do one-handed, but I'm sure it will come up many more times.

Even though you're just fine, I will probably beat myself up about this for a while.  I'm not saying that to make you feel bad.  Rather, I want you to understand how incredibly important you are to me.  That's what I do with everything I'm passionate about.  At the end of the day, I take inventory of my mistakes and think about how I can be a better Christian, a better wife, a better teacher, a better friend, a better woman.  I have now added to the top of that list wondering every day how I can be a better mom for you.  Each day I resolve to learn from the day before and to improve the day after.

What I realized today and what I try to repeat to myself every day is that despite all the mistakes I'm making, I'm doing okay.  When I thought something had happened to you, my instincts kicked in, and I was ready to do whatever it took to comfort and protect you.  I wrapped you up and tried to pour every last bit of love I have into you.  I want you to know today and always that I will do anything and everything for you.  I pity the first kid who messes with you at school or the first person who breaks your heart because I don't know if they will survive me.  I will always always always do my best and be my best for you so that I can survive me.

I want this world to be a better place now more than ever because you live in it now.  This will make me a better Christian, a better wife, a better teacher, a better friend, a better woman, and a better mom.  Thanks for loving me unconditionally, despite the fact that I am flawed and always broken and fixing myself.  Thanks for being such a perfect little man.  Thanks for being a daily reminder of God's love.

Thanks for choosing just the right moment to smile this morning to prove to me once and for all that I had not broken you on my watch.  

I love you, Tyson.

Mom