half year

Dear Annabelle:

Six months ago today, I met you for the first time. But it didn't feel like I was meeting you for the first time. You didn't feel like a stranger at all. No, you actually felt more like a finally. Finally I had you in my arms.

I remember noticing your tiny, perfect features, particularly your nose. I remember thinking you looked something like your Great Grandpa Christensen, which is funny now, but I think it had something to do with your features being all squishy and swollen, something that our faces do as we age, and ironically, often how they begin. I remember feeling overwhelming love, undeniable peace. I remember that even then, you turned your face into your blanket, something you do every night and every nap. In fact, I don't know that you could sleep without something to snuggle. I remember waiting for your first cry, the relief I felt when it came. And I remember when I finally got to hold you.

I never wanted to put you down. Indeed, I requested that you stay in my room that night so I could watch you, watch your chest rise and fall, memorize your face. You grunted a lot in your sleep, so I didn't sleep much more than a few winks, but I fell in love with you that night. And although that was the first of many sleepless nights, I never could get enough of you. And still, six months later, I can't get enough. It seems like just yesterday you made your entrance. It seems like just yesterday I held your tiny infant body, still purple in the fingers and toes, and felt a blanket of love wrap us both up so tight.

The other night I went and saw a movie. It's the first movie I've seen since your birth. And while it may have had something to do with how slow the movie was, the entire time I sat in my cushy theater seat, I wished for nothing more than to be home with you, sitting on the floor, playing with your toys, watching your face light up with recognition, your lips pucker with concentration, your hands very deliberately grab everything in reach, your smile turn up at me.

Thank you for coming to me six months ago. You make life new and beautiful. You make the simple things incredible. You bring more happiness to a person than I knew possible.

I love you my sweet Belle.

Love,
Mommy