I imagine you reading these letters someday, brushing the hair back from your face (you’ll have lots of hair some day!). I want your future self to know that you are dazzlingly beautiful, my love. You are sweet and smart and oh so lovable.
Last night your papa told me, “She makes me melt sometimes.” and he’s unmeltable, Bean. You fill our hearts with so much love.
Each day you seem the same and so much larger all at once. I held you last night in my arms and thought about the fact that you have more than doubled your weight since you were born.
This week you turned four months, and you had your first ouchie. It’s a long story, but you got a paper cut jumping in your jumparoo. I didn’t realize there was a piece of paper sticking out of the book I put underneath you (you can’t quite reach the ground yet), and you cut your pinkie toe on the piece of paper. We didn’t have a baby bandaid, so we ended up wrapping your tiny foot with gauze and tape. You didn’t cry at all, because you are so brave and strong.
Sometimes while you are nursing you will stop and lean back and stare up at me so thoughtfully. You look so deeply and so thoughtfully in my eyes that I can barely breathe. Then often you break out into the biggest, sweetest smile. Talk about melting.
We talk a lot now. You are most talkative in the morning and in the evenings. Sometimes I ask you a question, and you look at me like you know I’m waiting on an answer. It’s amazing.
When you nurse in my arms, you take your top hand and curl it around my finger like we’re holding hands. You clutch so tightly to my finger. I often lean down and kiss your sweet hand and try to burn each time into my heart and memory.
This time last year, I had been pregnant for about a week, but I had already dared to begin to hope and dream of you, Bean. Now you’re here, smiling up at me, learning to jump, and beginning to take the world in your tiny palms.
You’re the best. You’re the greatest bean we could have ever dreamed for, my love. You are our precious, perfect daughter, and we love you so much more than you will ever know.
Next week I’m heading back to work, and we are lucky that your Gigi will be coming to take care of you for two weeks and then your cousin Cathy will be with you for the whole year. Although I am excited to go back to work, I am going to miss you so, so, so terribly. I will miss all our small, sweet moments throughout the day. I love you more than the wide, wide world, but to be the best mom I can be for you, I have to be true to the best me. And the best me I can be involves doing what I love and contributing through my work. I’m not sure how we’ll figure out the balance between these worlds, but I promise we’ll make it. As long as we keep holding each other’s hands (or fingers :), everything will be ok. I’m just so grateful that you will be cared for my family who loves you (thank goodness for Cathy!). I miss these sweet days together already. They weren’t too fast or too slow. They were just enough, but it is acutely bittersweet to see them go.
You are so loved, my Beanshine, always,