Little Liam in six months old as of yesterday. Of course, he isn't really little. Weighing in at 20 pounds 14(I think) ounces, Little Liam is a chunk. As I consider the past six months, I will remember a few things. You are a boy. I ordered a girl, but I guess there a was a mixup. Labor was horrific. The first ten days were marred by a constant extreme headache, the next two weeks by a dizzying double vision. You wouldn't nap, and cried when we put you down. Finally, after a diagnosis of acid reflux, you started taking medicine and calming down. By four months, you were off the medicine and starting to laugh.
Liam, you are different than your brother and sisters. You do things at a slower pace. You smile (almost) as much as your sisters. Caleb was always serious. You cry rarely, except now that you are teething. I suppose this is a love note of sorts, because I didn't think I would get to have you. I thought those days were over.
I wish I could stay with you all day. I believe in the power of attachment, but I also believe in a roof over our heads. In a way, you are such a lucky kid. Your siblings are much older, and able to properly appreciate watching the new life of a baby unfold. I also sigh to think of you alone with your dad and me, as the other kids move to their own places.
Maybe I will find a way to be the mom at home I want to be, maybe I won't. I can only look forward with hope to what is to come. I worry a bit, because the world can be harsh, I don't tend to feel close to boys. But things can be overcome, and you remind me so much of your father, the gentle man I love.
My hope for you is that you will grow wise and strong. I hope you are caring and can see beyond the material trappings of life and see what matters. I hope you live with passion, tempered by good humor and intelligence.
And I hope you always remember to come home and visit your mom, because the surprise of your spirit lifts my heart and reminds me of secrets still untold.
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