Our first night at the hospital, I counted the minutes until I got to meet you both. The day was such a blur and I ached to finally hold you two in my arms. I counted your toes and your fingers and every wrinkle you had on your forehead. I soaked in all the little details of you both. I promise I won't do that when you're a teenager (or at least tell you about it).
There's so much I want to say to you, so I do- when we're rocking, dozing off to sleep. When you're showing me your big open blue eyes that sometimes cross when you stare at my nose. You won't remember any of those moments, so I wanted to write them down. Maybe if I'm lucky you'll read this when I've taken your car or phone away because you're a wild teenager like your daddy once was (yeah, that's my story and I'm sticking with it).
First things first, you both toot a lot. No really, you toot like one of those farting machines you buy at a special gift store. Sometimes I think it's your dad, but he swears it's you and blame it on my intake of asparagus. It's hard to image such a tiny baby making such a loud noise. But you both do. And I love you.
Speaking of love, it's important you understand my love for you both. It's the kind of love that burns up from my chest until it catches in my throat. And I feel that way with each of my kids. I remember wondering how I could love a child more than Kennedy? How silly, I was actually wondering how my heart could make room for another child. And sure enough god blessed us with 2 babies and I tear up now just bursting at the seems with love for you all. I was given the responsibility to be your mother and couldn't be more honored for the privilege.
I have this thing where I obsessively watch your breathing. Parenting is just torture. I mean, honestly- Showers are rare, I always have to pump, I binge snack instead of having time for meals, I finally get you both down to sleep and then I just sit there and watch you both breath. This motherhood love is no joke. It doesn't help that Beckett once enjoyed holding his breath for long periods or that Eloise likes to sleep with her hand pressed against her cheek like an angel. I want to hold you and squeeze you both, but try to remind myself that it took me an hour and 3 attempts for you to finish your bottle to get you to finally fall asleep in the first place.
In those 2am, 3am, 4am feedings, I always count those moments and know they are short lived (I mean I hope they are and would like to see the light at the end of the tunnel soon). Eloise you usually never even peek your eyes open during those hours, but drink your entire bottle. Beckett you stare at me like "What took your so long?" across your face. But I enjoy the close moments together and knowing my milk is making you both grow strong and big.
This past week, you both have really started to smile at me. It makes me so giddy inside I can't stand it. You love to smile at the moments where I am trying to be productive or helpful and can't help but sit down and take in the sweetness. In that moment I experience pure joy and desperate dread. It's like the ying and yang of parenthood. I hate that I will be missing those smiles during the day as I return to work next week. But I know you will be brightening others days who will be watching you (especially Nana's).
Anyway, I don't want to freak you out, but there's more. Our souls are bonded together forever. You're stuck with me. I'm stuck with all of you. But you're all independent people placed here on earth with a job to do completely separate from me. I don't like this very much. It means there could be times we are estranged, if you need elbow room to make your own mistakes. Maybe you'll move to LA and only call once a week between your acting career or waitressing job. Or you marry someone with a tattoo around their neck and has a record for bank robbery... Geez, I'm getting myself worked up over here and hope that surely isn't the case.
I just want to protect all my babies and that will surely be my downfall. From pains and owies. Colds and illness. Bullies. Social Media. All the Internet period. Heartbreak. Disappintment. Middle school. I want to hide you from mean kids. I want to protect you from obstacles, but I know you need them.
Before I wrap this up, let me share some bad news. Kennedy you are projected to be 6'2 when you grow up... and probably big feet like me (and your grandma). Eloise you and I have some chubby thighs. Hopefully you will grow out of those, but I may be doomed. Beckett, my sweet boy, you may have some red hair that people will envy and perhaps talk about. Own it and know it came from your dad's side of the family. :)
I will miss you both next week and our days spent together, but know that it will only make me value the evenings, weekends and midnight feedings (did I really say that) that we share together.
Love your emotional (Thanks Grandma!) and crazy mother.
xo
