Dear Baby Boy, I am different now. You’ve made me different.
My back is different- broad and strong. It’s spent hours bent over your changing table. Cleaning you, dressing you, making funny faces to make you smile. I’ve bent over your bassinet. Rubbing your belly, singing you songs, waiting for you to drift off to sleep.
My arms are different- muscular and tired. They’ve carried you in your car seat in and out of the house. They’ve held you, snuggled you, hugged you. Fallen asleep under you after the 48th verse of Wheels on the Bus.
My stomach is different- loose and far from toned. It may not be pretty, but it held you before my arms ever could. It was the first place I felt your tiny kicks and hiccups. It kept you safe and warm and for that, it will always be beautiful.
My breasts are different- lets just leave it at that. They’ve fed you, comforted you, soothed you. They were all we needed in the cool, dark, quiet nights together.
My eyes are different- older and sleepy. They are never closed for long but they wake to your big grin which is the best alarm clock I’ve ever had. They watch you get bigger and smarter everyday. But they are also filled with worry. They watch you cry, frustrated with your congestion. And stare at your belly rise and fall when you’re extra quiet at night.
I’m different, my sweet boy. But you’ve made me better. My body is stronger and my heart fuller. I love the me now. Perfectly imperfect and getting stronger everyday.