Tag Archives: Love

A Weekend at the Orchard

11 Apr

When you were almost two months old, The B’s came to my hometown and we all went apple picking together. The orchard we went to was actually on a mountaintop and it was a beautiful September afternoon.  I’d never been to an orchard before, and – quite obviously – neither had you. The fact that it was on a mountaintop only added to the beauty of it. It was a first for both of us.

I had so much fun. When The B’s got there, they immediately handed you over to me and I got to carry you around in your little Baby Bjorn the whole day. You slept most of the time and we had a little hat to cover your head, but your little chubby legs stuck out the bottom of it. I played with your feet a lot.

Aunt S came with us and she helped Sports Man pick out his favorite apples. The orchard was laid out so that trees with the same kind of apples were lined up in rows, so you knew where to look for your favorites. If I had to pick one, I’d probably sad Red Delicious were my favorite, but quite honestly, I still can’t tell a whole lot of difference between different apple types, even though I love them. I’m pretty sure I ate more apple doughnuts that day than I did actual apples anyway (I’ll bring you back one day because you have to try those doughnuts. They’re incredible).

There was a part of the orchard where they kept animals, too. We walked through the woods to a lake and you could buy a handful of food to feed them. Sports Man got a kick out of that part. Towards the end of our orchard trip, we all curled up under the shade of a giant tree and ate some of our goodies (doughnuts!). J and I laid you out on a blanket and just looked at you and played with you and talked some. Back then, we were still getting to know each other. Every now and then we reminisce on those times and it’s so funny to us how far we’ve come since then. Comparing how close we are now to how little we knew then…it certainly has been a journey. A very, very fun one.

After the orchard, we met up at the restaurant where I work, and we all ate there. It was the first time anyone at work had gotten to meet you – you were a hit. Everyone loved you; they still do (quite a few of your Aunts work there). It was the first time I ever really got to show you off, and you know how I love to do that. You got a little fussy during dinner, so I took you outside and bounced you around until you fell asleep. I didn’t even need food – I would have walked around outside with you all night. People who walked by kept complimenting me on you, saying how cute you were, how sweet you were. I smiled and said thank you, enjoying my little, stolen moment of parenthood. I danced around with you as I rocked you. I sang a little bit (it’s not really anything you want to hear). Mostly I just whispered that I loved you over and over again.

I was a great weekend. The next morning before you left, C and I got together with The B’s really early and had breakfast at your hotel. Every visit, especially those early ones, are such wonderful memories of spending time with you and getting to know The B’s. We learned so much about each other and with every visit we had, the more we wanted another one. We almost never left one visit without planning the next. As they left that September, I knew I would down visiting you three weeks later for Sports Man’s birthday party. That was one of the many things The B’s did to try to make the adoption process as easy on me as possible – planning out the next visits, so I always knew when I would see you again. And it really did help. I think that’s what helped me heal as fast as I did. I never had to feel as though I “lost” you. They never let that happen.

You always give me something to look forward to. And now, I rarely have to wait. We’re all so in love with each other, I hear from The B’s at least a few times a week. I love them. I love the memories I have of the trips we’ve taken and the visits we’ve made. I still have my Liam-sized apple (as we deemed the itty, bitty apples) to remind me of that trip. It’s held up really well – just like everything else.

Tags: , , , ,

Happy Easter Little Man

8 Apr

You and Sports Man on your first Easter in 2011!

 

Happy Easter, baby boy! I hope you are having a wonderful time celebrating this miraculous and joyous day with all of the people who love you so dearly. I know I love you more than I will ever be able to convey with words, and I wish I could be there today to see you in all of your springtime glory. I wish a happy Easter for the rest The B’s as well – they are certainly one of the best gifts God has ever given me. Save an Easter egg for me, Little Man :)

 

You this Easter :) Thank you J

Tags: , ,

The New Cary Grant

7 Apr

In your lifetime, you’re probably going to hear a lot about Cary Grant. He was a very popular actor in the mid-1900’s, starting on Broadway and then playing multiple roles in a wide variety of movies. If you boil it down, he has four basic trademarks: his mid-Atlantic accent, his “handsome bachelor” role that he played in a majority of his movies, his frequent appearance in romantic comedies, and the dimple in his chin.

Which brings me to Reason I Love You #18: The dimple in your chin.

I’ve told you before that it was the first thing I noticed about you after you were born. The lifted you up to where I could see you and your chin was the first thing I saw. It was one of my first two thoughts I had after you finally made it out: number one was that you were crying and I’d always heard that a crying baby means a healthy baby. So when I heard you cry, I knew you were safe and alive and those were the most important things. Thought number two was, “He has a cleft chin.”

It has been wildly popular ever since. Even I hear a lot about your chin – people always comment on it. They think it’s adorable, mostly because it is. You wear it very well.

The best thing is that it’s a 100% Liam thing. There are no dimpled chins in my family – I have the slightest depression in my chin, but you can only see it if the lighting is right so I don’t think it counts. And as far as I know, no one in C’s family deals with dimpled chins either. It’s just a “you” quality. A Little Man trademark. Something completely and totally unique, just like the rest of you.

So it’s true, I’m in love with your cleft chin just like everyone else who knows you. I love that it’s the first thing people notice, I love that it was one of the first things I noticed, I love that it’s just yours, I love that it looks perfect on you. It’s a small thing, but sometimes it’s the smallest things that matter the most. I love you for a million small reasons and in the end, they add up to the most powerful kind of love I’ve ever had the privilege of experiencing – that’s a lot to be said for the “little things.”

I’m fairly certain your chin is not something you’re going to grow out of – you’ll have the Cary Grant dimple for the rest of forever, and I think it’s wonderful. Only after you, they’ll probably rename it the Liam Hudson dimple. After all, you’re already way cuter than Cary Grant ever was.

Tags: , , , , ,

Is Forever Enough?

30 Mar

 This is one of the pictures that J took from your last visit. I already showed you a few of them, but this one is my favorite.

 First of all, I’m a sucker for black and white pictures. I think a lot of pictures need their color, and believe me, I love those too, but black and white just adds such a beautiful and classical edge to a photo. That’s what I love about this picture: how classical it looks. Truly like a moment of beauty and love, frozen in time. The shadows are perfect, the smile on your face melts my heart, and the hug I’m giving you is meant to convey every ounce of love I have for you. And you’re holding on to me too. That might be my favorite part.

 I know I say it all the time, but I will never be able to say it enough. I love you, Little Man. I love every hug, every smile, every picture, every second of time I get to spend with you. I love that you exist, I love that I get to call you mine, I love that my apartment is plastered with pictures of you, I love that I get to show you off, I love that simply thinking of you can turn bad around day around, I love that having you finally showed me what love truly means in the first place. I didn’t really know until I met you, and now I don’t think I’ll ever love anyone as much. You are the best thing. You mean more to me than I’ll ever be able to tell you, but I’m going to keep trying anyways. I am never going to let you forget it, not for one second.

This picture encompasses a lot of feelings. They’re worth 1,000 words and though I could certainly write that much about my love for you, it’s wonderful that we have iconic images like this to do it for us. I love you to the ends of the earth and back, to infinity and beyond. Like my favorite song for you says, “How long do you want to be loved? Is forever enough, ’cause I’m never, never giving you up.”

Tags: , , ,

Daddy Dearest

28 Mar

On your first birthday, I got you a present, but I actually wrote cards to J and E. Well…they weren’t so much cards as they were letters. And maybe they weren’t so much letters as they were small novels. But either way, your first birthday was kind of like our first birthday as a family. I had chosen them and met them months before you showed up, but our families didn’t truly become one until that beautiful summer day.

Of course, J and I like to write each other all the time, and the birthday letter I wrote her was no small feat. She even wrote me one back that birthday weekend. But today, I kept thinking about the letter I wrote E.

The letter I wrote E was actually partially about my own father, Pop-pop 3. I’ll tell you all about growing up with Pop-Pop 3 one day – there’s just too much love and too much fun to fit it all in a couple of letters. He was, and continues to be, an amazing father to me. He was “the best-of-the-best” when it came to dads, as I told E. And though a lot of that is due to his constant support and constant pride and constant reminders that I am loved by him, that “best-of-the-best” title is also due to the little things.

Pop-pop 3 and I played ball all the time. Before we had a basketball goal in the driveway, he would empty out the garage and use our giant trash can as the “goal.” He would throw me pop-flies in the yard when we played baseball. He taught me how to throw a spiral football. He would play with me until it got too dark to see outside, and only then would we go back inside. He would take me out for ice cream every Wednesday in middle school, and then he’d hang out with me in the local library until I had dance class. He did a million little things for me, but they meant the most. They still do. Only now instead of ice cream, we go out for coffee. Instead of playing ball with me, he’ll change my oil or quietly help me do laundry when I’m deeply absorbed in my homework and not paying attention. Like I said…little things.

I’ve always known that he loves me to the ends of the earth. “To infinity and beyond” as we always say (thank you, Buzz Lightyear). And my dad actually had a big influence on your adoption. I wanted you to have a dad like mine. I wanted your childhood to be everything mine was – filled with love and little things. And though I would have absolutely given those things to you – pop-flies, football until dark, ice cream Wednesdays – I wanted you to do those things with a dad, too. I wanted you to have a dad who does the small things, who never lets you forget that he loves you, whose love is obvious, even when he’s not saying it out loud.

E is that dad. Just like Pop-pop 3, he loves doing those little things. I saw that even before you were born, in the way he was with Sports Man. I saw in the pictures of him goofing around with Sports Man. I saw it in the way he showed off videos of how Sports Man could read and play basketball. It is no different with you. He loves playing the same games with you over and over, no matter silly they are. He loves playing ball outside. When you were just a month old, he already had the tradition of getting up with you, feeding you and then holding you while he drank coffee on the porch.

No one has ever reminded me of my own father as much as E does, and it’s beyond heartwarming. As my letter said, every time I see the two of you together, my hearts swells so much, I swear it could burst. He doesn’t even need to tell me how much he loves you. I can see it in the small things, sometimes just in the way he looks at you. Just like Pop-pop 3. And just like me, I’m pretty sure your first word was “da-da.”

As I’m sure you already know, your laugh is famous, and it’s also one of my favorite sounds in the whole wide world. As a matter of fact, quite a few of my favorite videos of you have you laughing in them. This one is of you and E, and it’s the first time I ever heard you laugh, which is why I treasure it so much. And of course, who was the first person I ever saw with ability to make you laugh? E.

You and I are quite the pair of lucky ones to have the dads that we do. When you’re finally old enough to read this, give E a hug when you’re done. Until then, I’ll give him twice as many hugs for the both of us :)

Tags: , , , , ,

Facebook + E-mail = A Lifetime of Love

21 Mar

J posted this picture today and I immediately fell in love with it. People can say what they like about technology and how it’s taking over or how it’s bad for us, but I’m loving it because I can get on my computer and find things like this. I honestly don’t think I can convey how in love I am with this picture. So much is contained in it – how happy you look, how much Sports Man loves you, what it has truly done for you to have a brother…it’s beautiful to me. Like I said – what makes you happy makes me happy.

I know that I’ve told you multiple times that J always sends me pictures and E always sends me videos, but it means so much to me that they do. Even if it’s on Facebook for all of our friends to see or sent to me in a private e-mail, I just love getting so see or hear about what you’re up to. They update me constantly with the goings on of your life. It’s even better because I know they don’t do it because they feel obligated – they do it because they want to share your life with me. They want me to watch you grow up and do cute things. Even if it’s not entirely about you, I just like hearing from them period. I feel so blessed to have become such good friends with the family I chose. A family that I consider my family now.

I remember being so worried, when I was pregnant and considering adoption, that I would miss so much. Your first steps, first words, all of the other adorable things babies do when they’re growing up…I was so afraid I would miss them all or hear about them way after the fact. Happily, I got very lucky with The B’s. I see you so often I don’t feel like I miss anything. And when I’m not around, I get pictures and videos and text messages and e-mails. I don’t feel like I’ve missed a thing and I wouldn’t have it any other way.

I think that’s a good tip for potential or actual adoptive parents who have relationships with the birth mother: the smallest things about you – what you’re doing, the things you like, silly things you do – are things that’d we’d love to see or hear about. A picture here and there, a small update on how your favorite food has changed from grilled cheese to hot dogs, anything at all…just knowing about it or seeing it can make our day. All birth mothers love their children – it’s why we choose adoption. I understand that it may be more difficult for some to deal with than others, and without The B’s, I know it would have been even more difficult for me. They have made adoption so much easier than it could have been. They have made it so easy for me to show you how much I love you, and for that, I owe them everything.

I’ve decided I’m just going to love them forever. Hopefully a lifetime of friendship and caring and love will be a good place to start :)

Tags: , , , , , , ,

Thank You Uncle Kevin

12 Mar

Yesterday, I started to tell you about meeting The B’s for the first time (June 1st, 2010 as I was informed by J). Lots of crying, one good hug and a box of Atlanta Bread Company cookies later, I was sitting at a conference room table, seated directly across from the man and woman who were to become your mom and dad.

It’s weird to look back and realize how little I knew about them then. I didn’t even know their last name at the time we met. I didn’t know where they lived. I don’t actually remember what started off the conversation that day. I know my counselor facilitated the introductions. I also know that once we started talking, we didn’t stop.

J and E asked how C and I ended up together. They asked about our story and our history, and in return we asked them about theirs. I remember learning that E sent J a 20 page love letter at one point. I learned that for a while, they had all of their dates in the middle of the night because of the hours that they worked when they first started dating. I learned that they were married in November, the same month as my parents. J and E had been married for eight and a half years when I met them. Their tenth anniversary was last year.

We talked about what led me to adoption – how I had found Bethany, why I thought adoption was the right choice, etc. We talked about my past – what I did in high school, how I was enjoying college, what I was talented at, what I loved. I remember telling them that I loved writing, that I was good at it. J and I revealed how we had each always wanted a sister. They asked C the same questions – he and E instantly bonded over music. We could have been there the whole rest of the day if we had let them continue to talk about it.

I remember a couple of things very vividly, though. One of them was when we talked about The B’s failed adoptions. They had been through three, and though I’m sure each one hit just as hard as all the others, the first one was the one I remember. They had grown very close to the birth mother. The B’s family had met her family. They had invited her up to E’s hometown for Thanksgiving. She had gotten to meet Sports Man. They had painted their nursery pink in anticipation of the arrival of a baby girl. They got the phone call that she had decided to keep her baby on the day they had planned to go pick the baby up.

J teared up telling me the story. My heart broke for them. I can only imagine that kind of pain and disappointment – like the world fell out from beneath you and you couldn’t get your footing back. Or maybe it just stopped turning because it couldn’t possibly go on after it had dealt a blow like that, but you were the only one to realize it. I tried to empathize with that kind of devastation, but I don’t think I got anywhere close to how it must have felt. But what I did realize was just how much love this family had for a child they had never met, and how much acceptance they had for a girl who wasn’t technically family.

Which brings me to the second thing I remember very well: a story about one of E’s uncles, Kevin. E’s mom had a sister. This sister met and fell in love with a man named Kevin, and one day, he proposed. Sadly, during their engagement, the sister died suddenly in a tragic accident. The family, Kevin, everyone was devastated. But his family kept in touch with Kevin and he stayed in touch with them. Eventually, he met someone else and married her. They had kids together. But to E, he is still Uncle Kevin. He still comes to The B’s family gatherings. They still consider him family. I’ve actually met him – he came to Sports Man’s 7th birthday party.

They told me this story to try to tell me something else – that I didn’t have to be related to them to be a member of their family. That I didn’t have to be related to them through blood or marriage to be an integral part of their life. That their hearts and arms were open to anyone, and that they didn’t just want me to be “the birth mom” – they wanted me to be Renee, a member of The B’s. They wanted my family to be part of The B’s. Because you would link us all. You would forever be part of my family because you are part of me. You would be part of their family because you would belong to them and their hearts would belong to you. You would take two families and make them one. One month and twenty-two days later, you did.

The day I met The B’s was the first day I felt as though adoption could really work. Until then it had been this intangible thing, this unknown entity that could go up or downhill. I came into that meeting with a list of questions that I had spent days putting together, ready to make sure that “these people” were good enough to be your parents, and I didn’t use it once. They were better than I could have hoped for. Just by getting to know them, my mind and heart were put at ease. My fears were soothed.

My prayers were answered.

Tags: , , , ,

This I Promise You

9 Mar

Everybody makes promises. That’s one thing you’ll learn as you get older, and it’s something you’ll hear a lot. “I promise you…this.” When you’re little you put a lot of stock into what people promise you. When you get older…maybe not so much. My hope for you is that you never learn to be cynical like that. I hope that people never prove you wrong or let you down.

 But just in case, here’s the deal – there are a lot of people you will never have to worry about trusting: The B’s for certain. Pop-Pop 3 and Grandma M, definitely. Your multiple aunts – my many, many friends – will always be a solid shoulder to lean on.  And lastly, me. I will always be honest with you. I will always be dependable.

 So in the spirit of that, I would like to make you a few promises I will always, always keep.

 I promise to comfort you when you’re sick.

 I promise to try to cheer you up whenever you’re upset.

 I promise to take you out for ice cream during the summer.

 I promise to pick you up when you fall.

 I promise to visit as often as humanly possible.

 I promise to come to as many school plays, concerts, recitals or games that I can.

 I promise to support you no matter what you choose to do or be.

 I promise to show naked baby pictures to your girlfriends (oh yeah, I’ve got ’em).

 I promise to answer all the questions you ask me truthfully.

 I promise to be there for you and for all of The B’s.

 I promise to love your family because they are my family.

 I promise to be there to bounce ideas off of when you have a big decision to make.

 I promise to brag about you to everyone I know (I’ve already started on that one…)

 I promise to learn how to cook so that I can make you home cooked meals some day.

 I promise to help E educate you in music. Actually, I promise to tell C that he should help E educate you in music.

 I promise that one day, you’ll be proud of me.

 I promise to listen before I react.

 I promise to try to learn everything about you that I can.

 I promise to love you forever.

 One of the biggest, most important promises I will make you is this: I promise to put you first, before anything or anyone else. You are the most important thing to me. No one will ever take your place. No one will ever matter more. You are at the top of list, you take the cake, you’re number one…and whatever other clichés there are to say, “You have won me.” My heart is yours along with the rest of me. It has been for years now.

 The list is going to go on. I’m going to add to it for the rest of my life, and I want you to know that I’ll keep them, every single one. And I also want you to know that I’ll never makes ones I think I might go back on. I want to be someone you trust. I want to be someone you will never be afraid to depend on. I will be here for you, no matter what.

I promise.

Tags: , , , ,

The World’s Most Boring Child Birthing Classes

3 Mar

 I started thinking about adoption a couple of weeks after I discovered you. It seemed logical – I could give you to a family that could provide for you and since I was choosing open adoption, I’d get to see you often. Very logical. I was doing what was best and it would be difficult, but not too hard. I’d still get to see you, and since it was what was best, even when I was sad, that knowledge would be able to help me sleep at night.

 I actually managed to continue that thought process for a couple of months, until I started my child birthing classes at the local hospital. I scheduled them every Sunday so that C could attend, but in the end, he decided it was too hard for him. Either Pop-Pop 3, Grandma M or Aunt S would accompany me to my classes.

 I hated those classes.

 Well, that’s not entirely true. The information I learned was incredibly valuable, and for that reason, I’m glad I went. I learned all about the birthing process and what to expect when it came time for delivery. I learned about you and what you would be doing for my last trimester. I learned that the really weird cramping and hardening of my stomach wasn’t you rolling around, but that they were Braxton Hicks contractions. I learned about the stages of labor and things I could do during labor to ease the stress on myself, therefore easing the stress on you. I was out buying books and pregnancy within the week I found out about you, so being the knowledge nerd that I am, all of this info from the classes was really interesting to me.

 But other than that the class was so…boring. I don’t think any of the other couples in that class knew what the word “fun” meant. Aunt S and I would make jokes and try to have fun and we’d get looks from the other couples like they couldn’t believe we were attempting to enjoy the classes – these classes were obviously serious business and we obviously weren’t taking the classes seriously enough. I know…I’m one of those weirdos who thinks learning can be fun. Go figure.

 But what the child birthing classes did do was make the reality of you…well, real. We would talk about what the babies would look like within the first couple of days – red, puffy faces, cone heads, maybe even a little yellow. We talked about changing diapers, how babies liked to be swaddled, how to stop babies from crying…and I realized that I wouldn’t get to do any of this. I would see you in your red, puffy face stage and then you’d disappear.

 My logic went out the window, and I suppose it was about time. Situations like ours can’t be ruled by logic and logic alone – it’s very emotional. The bond between a mother and her child is all about love – we never say “I love my child because I should and he or she needs me to.” We just do. It’s natural, it’s innate and it’s more powerful than anything you’ve ever imagined. And during those classes I was overwhelmed with the idea that despite that powerful love, I was going to let you go.

 This was before I met The B’s. During these classes, your “future family” was an unknown entity to me, making this reality even scarier. Parting with you seemed to get more impossible with each passing day. I hated the classes for that, too. Because even though I love the you inside me, I was starting to dream about the you when you finally came out – who you would be, what you would look like, how I could care for you. It hurt my heart to think about because I realized that when the real you showed up, so would your adoption. The two were not mutually exclusive – with one, came the other. And my problem was that I only wanted one – you.

 Towards the end of my pregnancy, every night as I went to sleep, I would hold my stomach and feel you kick and I would thank you, for spending one more night with me. I did this every night for the last month. I said it the night before I went into labor – “Thank you for staying with me for one more night.”

 Of course, it’s all turned out better than I could have imagined. The B’s were only too happy to let me have my diaper changing experiences and to see you past your puffy-face-cone-head stage. Every time I went over to their house, they wouldn’t hesitate to hand you to me. They would let me hold you as much as I wanted to. They wanted me to hold you as long as I wanted to. They want me to love you as much as I possibly can, and for that and a multitude of other reasons, I love them.

 But those child birthing classes taught me that logic only goes so far, and then comes love. And love tends to bring the logic-house down. Our journey was an emotional one – one where even though I was told I shouldn’t get too attached to you if I was planning on adoption, I couldn’t help it and wouldn’t have if I could’ve. One where I was told I shouldn’t keep you in the room with me at the hospital because it would make it easier but there wasn’t a person in the world who could have removed you from my sight or my arms.

 And you have been more than worth it – every emotional up and down, every sad day and every happy day, every tear shed before and after your adoption (there were a lot, although some we could probably attribute to pregnancy hormones) were beyond worth it, because out of all of it, I got you. And through you, I got The B’s. And from all of you, I got everything I’ll ever need.

 I just think that next time, I’ll pick a livelier bunch to spend my Sunday afternoons with.

Tags: , , , , ,

Have No Fear, Love Is Here…Right?

2 Mar

As you know, I started these letters for many reasons, most of them for you. I want you to know how you got to where you are. I want you to know how many lives you’ve touched just by being you. I want to be able to document the things I learn about you as I learn them, so that one day you can look back and appreciate your childhood self the way the rest of us do. Mostly I want you to know how loved you are.

 But I’m going to make a confession: even though the letters are for you – from me to you –   they’re actually for me too. Because even though it’s good for you to know that I love you, it’s almost better for me to know that you know that I love you.

 As I told you yesterday, The B’s would never dream of the day when they would let you forget how much I love you. I know that if some how, some way, any doubt of that entered your mind, they would correct it in an instant. But before I found them and really got to know them, that was probably my biggest adoption concern as a birth mother: that if you grew up away from me, you would never know how much I loved you. Or even worse, you would assume that since I “gave you up,” I didn’t love you.

 I think that is a universal birth mother fear – that if we’re not around, there won’t be anyone else around to remind you that we honestly did what we thought was absolutely best for you in the long run. That it was because of love that we chose adoption, not in spite of it, or due to our lack of it. We want our children to think the best of us and sometimes we feel that if we’re not with you 24/7 to encourage that, no one else will.

 It’s one of the weird conundrums of adoption – I feel that, as your mother, our love for one another should be innate. But since I went through with adoption – even though it was a decision made lovingly – sometimes I feel like my love is something that I need to prove to you. My love for you is guaranteed, but since I’m not raising you, your love for me doesn’t have to be – sometimes, I feel like your love is something I will need to earn. 

 I honestly used to think that I was a selfish person for choosing adoption. That if I had just been a little more selfless, I could have sacrificed more – “manned up” a bit – and kept you as my own. A little therapy and constant support from friends and family cured me of that relatively fast, but it doesn’t keep the thought from creeping up every now and then. It’s a strange paradigm to try to describe.

 I actually came up with the idea for these letters way back then, when the adoption first took place, but I wasn’t as healed then as I feel now. I wanted to be able to sort through my feelings before I started telling them to you because I wanted our relationship to be a source of clarity for you, not confusion. And also, funny enough (the people who know me will laugh at this), I was actually afraid I would run out of things to say.

 As it turns out, my letters to you almost write themselves. I start off with a little thought or a funny story about you and suddenly, I’ve written hundreds of words – paragraphs filled with stories I want you to know, stories I love; feelings I have for you and your family, a thousand memories, a million and a half things I want you to hear. Writing to you isn’t a job, it isn’t work – it’s freeing. Every time I write one, I feel a little lighter. And even though you’re no where close to being able to read them, I feel closer to you and The B’s every time I finish one.

 It’s yet another way you have brought love, peace and meaning to my life.

 My fears of you not knowing that I am madly in love with you have been long assuaged. I am sure you will grow up knowing that I love you because The B’s wouldn’t have it any other way, and because I am going to come around as often as humanly possible to tell you so myself. And some day later on, you will have these letters to tell you how loved you are, too. But even so, you should know that even if I don’t have to, I am going to spend the rest of my life proving it to you anyways.

Tags: , , ,

← Older Entries
Newer Entries →