- amy lou.
- mommy. wife. teacher. yogini. writer. coffee drinker. aunt. crocheter. reader. dog lover. scattered. methodical. rational. irrational. paranoid. annoyed. lost. found. content. searching. peaceful. i am constantly in search of my story. the one i have never happened. the one i've lived i cannot write.
12 November 2012
my sweet millie may.
i blinked and all of a sudden
eight months have slipped through my fingers.
and while i have pocketed so many moments in my heart
i have done a terrible job of inscribing them
on the wires.
i'm not quite sure where to begin
to tell you what these last eight months have been like
what i can tell you is this;
our lives are better
because you are in them.
you were the missing piece
and now we are whole.
when i look into your crisp, blue eyes
i see you taking in all that is around you.
that make up your world.
in the beginning
those first few months
you revealed a stubborn streak
unlike anything we ever saw in your sister;
you refused to drink out of bottles
you refused to roll over
you refused to be placed on your stomach at all
and you wanted absolutely nothing to do with food.
yet you were healthy
you were happy
and you slept through the night without so much as a whimper.
you are an incredibly happy baby
and greet me with a smile each and every day.
you take particular joy in listening and watching your big sister
and i can see in your eyes just how eager you are to join her in play.
you know daddy's voice and listen for him to come in each evening.
you love to pull hair and are disappointed that mommy doesn't have more of it to play with.
you squeal with delight when your ozzer-puppy is near and licking your toes.
and you so very much want to move, but just can't quite figure out the mechanics...yet.
you love 'you are my sunshine' and immediately stop crying when i begin to sing it.
you enjoy ritz crackers and riding on my hip.
when you curl up on my chest at night, you interlace your fingers along the chain of my necklace
and gingerly grasp at the 'om' charm as it slides along my collarbone.
you have your daddy's eyes
with the exception of a small brown birthmark on the right iris
much like mine.
i realize i have not documented
these last eight months the way i should have
or wanted to
or meant to
but you must know this much.
you filled a hole in my heart
that i didn't even realize was there.
i cannot fathom my world
without you in it.
and i promise
from here on after
i will try to do better...
...unless i am too busy
snuggling you close to me.