All the good things

On Motherhood: It’s as if I’ve always known you.

One week postpartum. I’ve been trying to write this for days, but I haven’t been able to stop staring at you long enough to put words to a page. 

One week postpartum but a lifetime of connection. It’s as if I’ve always known you. 

You’ve always been there, a part of me. 

Gently woven into the fabric of my being. 

We’ve always been an us. 

I kiss your face a thousand times a day and I realize I’ve known it forever. 

It has stared back at me whenever I’ve looked into a mirror. Everyone says you look exactly like me. Our baby photos are identical.

But my darling, you’re different than me. 

You’re all the good things and none of the bad. You are everything that has ever made me smile or laugh or cry a good cry. The sort of cry that is unfettered joy and nothing else. 

I’ve paused during the writing of these sentences too many times to count to hold your little hand and stroke the softness of your face, but the words still linger. 

They wait for me. 

They wait for us. 

They are us. 

I’ll kiss your face a thousand more times before the night falls. 

I’ll say I love you and call you my beautiful boy and cry at least one of those good cries before the sun rises. 

I’ll give you my body and my whole heart today and every day. 

In the delusional sleep-deprived blue dawn. In the tired gold of the late mornings. In the sticky warmth of our ever-long days. And well into the starry skies where the only sounds are the night birds and your comforting little breaths. 

I’ll give you everything. 

Not because Motherhood is easy as it is most certainly the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It has taken all of me. My good parts and my bad. Every ounce of my broken being. 

I’ll give you everything. 

Because you, my darling, you’re all the good things. 

Every good thing that has ever happened to me.

Every good thing that will happen.

All the good things.