There will never be words to explain the kind of love that a mother has for her children.  No combination of words in a gigantic Webster’s Dictionary could come close to conveying the depth of what I feel for you.  You have blessed our lives for just five short months and your presence here has been life changing. 

You are etched into my heart.  I love you so.   

I love watching you as you watch your brother so intently–tracking him across the room as he frolics and plays.  You are so mesmerized by him.  Your little eyes soak him in, all the while, I am soaking you in.  

I love how you get so excited to stand up.  Your little body jerks back and forth as you steady yourself.  And then you shriek with joy.  Babble a little.  I know that you are telling me that I am the best mommy in the world.

Watching you come so close to sitting up for small periods of time makes me fill up with happiness like a child.  Like I haven’t seen a baby sitting before.  Or watched one of my own children already learn how to do it, with your older brother.  But it’s you.  And you are new.  And to see you so close to doing something so new is amazing and perfect.  

When you hold onto my fingers when I give you your bottle, my heart melts.  I miss nursing you, but I’m happy for the four and a half months that we were able to do it.  Bottles and heart procedures don’t really do too well for nursing babies and mommies.  I know it’s not your favorite yet to take a bottle from me, but you don’t mind so much when daddy does it, or Gigi, or Nanna. . . or strangers at church.  They didn’t used to nurse you, so it doesn’t bother you to take a bottle from them.  But it’s something we’ll keep working on. I know you’ll be okay with it soon.  You are adaptable.  

You are my favorite little baby under the sun.  I love you so.

You look nothing like me, but I couldn’t care less.  I still love you the same.  The only thing that tells me that you have some of my genes is the little flap you have at the top of your ears, just like mine.  Your eyes are blue. . . mine are certainly not.  Your hair is blonde. . . mine is most definitely not.  You have little ridges on each side of your nose, just like your daddy.  You are laid back and giggle and screech.  You are pure perfection.  

You are a trooper.  We are working on getting to the bottom of your horrible eczema.  I hope we can figure it out. . . I hate watching you suffer.  When you have flare ups, it’s the worst for me to watch.  I wish I could take it from you and suffer with it myself so that you could live a more comfortable life.  I pray that God soon takes this away from you . . . and that you once again can have the baby smooth skin that you once had.  

But don’t you worry.  No matter what your skin looks like–even on your worst of days, I love you so.  

You make me happy.  You make me weep tears of joy.  You make our family a beautiful family of four.  You are the littlest love of my life.  

I love you so.  I love you so.  I love you so, so much.