My darling Felix

It’s just over 10 weeks since you were born. I’ve been writing notes to you in my head or shooting videos when you’re asleep on my chest, but this is the first moment that I’ve had to write.

You are a wonderful boy. I tell you this every day and I hope to tell you this as much as I can.

You are strong, sweet and clever. A combination I suspect will get you both into and out of trouble in your life.

Some days you look like your father, especially when you’re gazing intently. Other times you look like my father, with your blue eyes and lovely smile. My mother says that when you’re happy, you’re a lot like me. You’re happy at lot of the time. 🙂

I adore how after we’ve nursed, you’ll sit on my lap and smile at me, like having a full belly is the most awesome thing ever (I agree, it really is!).

When I sing you lullabies at night, you’re starting to sing along with me in your own way, though you usually only manage to sing for part of a song before you get sleepy.

I love holding you. If I could, I would do it all the time.

You have made me happy in a way I had never imagined. You’ve healed breaks in my heart that I didn’t even know that I had.

There are times when I watch your father hold you and play with you and I am so overcome with love for you both that I forget to breathe.

I try my very best for you. Even when it’s hard. Though I have to confess, that so far, the hard moments are few and far between. If you can manage, let’s try to keep it that way (either way you get my best, of course).

The first time you smiled I wanted to buy you a car or a pony or whatever you wanted. I realized very quickly that all you wanted was more smiles from me. I promise you an endless supply (and if you’re good, try your best in school and respect your parents we can totally talk about that car thing one day).

It took a long time for you to come to us. When I was younger, I was quite afraid to have children, but I worked on that. Somewhere in my mind I suppose I knew that even though I was afraid of something, that didn’t mean I shouldn’t do it. Then, there was a pregnancy before you that we lost. It was very hard on us and a few years of fruitless trying that we couldn’t explain made matters worse. I guess now we know that you were going to come to us when you were going to come to us. I’m so happy that you did.

Your family loves you so much. Here in Canada, over in Czech Republic and all over the world, as family is more than blood. They’re all so delighted that you are here. I hope you can learn from them as they are all wonderful and unique people with so much to share.

You’ve changed the way I see the world. Made me soft, emotional and gushy. I’ve never felt stronger.

It’s been 10 weeks and I’ve taken 500 photos of you. I can’t speak for how many your father has taken. I’m glad we’re not paying for film.

We have really awesome dance parties.

Sometimes I lie awake at night and think about the future. Sometimes because I’m a mummy, I worry about all the things that could hurt you in the world. But more and more I get so excited because I try to imagine moments you, your father and I might have. There’s so much we want to show you and so much that you will show us.

You are growing so much every day. Sometimes I think you’re measurably bigger when I pick you up in the morning.

I can’t wait to see you run or hear you speak. To see you experience food or what it’s like to swim. I also want you to stay my little baby forever. To be the tiny boy I rock to sleep in my arms each night. These are the tensions of parenthood. If I do my job well, you’ll be less and less dependent on me. Hopefully that’s something we’ll both grow into with some grace.

I love you my sweet boy. Thank you for these ten weeks. I can’t wait to see what happens next.

Love, Mama