Letting Go

According to the doctor you were hypothetically conceived on this day one year ago. Today is the day you came to me and the day before I will have to let you go. Tomorrow you will start daycare (or as we call it in our house “school”). The only person excited for you to start school, is your big sister, Gianna. And by the way, that completely melts my heart. She is super excited for her “Baby Jamie” to go to her school .

I just spent the past thirty minutes putting everyone’s things together so tomorrow is not so much of a hot mess. So now I sit curled on the couch with a beer and pen in hand and begin writing in the nice new journal we purchased today from Home Goods. Thanks for sleeping the whole time, by the way.

Today I’m mourning the loss of you relying on me completely. This is the beginning of our separation- literally and figuratively (although I guess birth was, but let’s continue). You will no longer solely rely on me to take care of you and learn from. I must let others enjoy and experience all that is you, my dear son.

I’m sad. I’m scared. Sad I won’t be able to kiss your cheeks all day. To know exactly what you are doing each minute, each second of the day. I’m scared I will miss some of your “firsts”. At three months, you are on the verge of laughing. Close, but not quite there. I guess ignorance is bliss because if I do miss your very first laugh I won’t know it. The first time I get to experience your magical giggle I will wonder if I was the first to hear. I will tell myself I am. It’s what I need.

I’m feeling more than I thought. I figured it would be easier with you as my second baby. I know what to expect, right? I know that each week it will get a little easier. Still, I am having a hard time.

I will miss smelling your hair. Your beautiful, soft hair. I will miss holding you tight against me. Studying your features when you eat. Holding your hand as I feel your grip tighten against my finger.

As I look in to your big, bright eyes I am so thankful for you. For your love. For your wide grin. For your rolls and double chin. For all of you. Love rushes over me. It radiates brightly. My heart feels so full of love when I look at you.

So tonight I reflect on you, on us. On how much you have grown. And boy have you grown! I reflect on all the joy you have brought to my life in these few months you have been on this earth. Part of my heart will be missing tomorrow, but I will get through the day. I will look through the endless pictures of you on my phone to ease some of that ache. You will always be my little baby boy. I look forward to watching you grow, but for now I reflect and begin to let go.