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You Are My Second

You are my second, with your Daddy's toes. With rosebud lips, full moon eyes, shorter legs like your Mama's. With feathery hair, perfect hands, perfect everything.
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Photo by Lindsey Robey

You are my second, with your Daddy's toes. With rosebud lips, full moon eyes, shorter legs like your Mama's. With feathery hair, perfect hands, perfect everything.

I was afraid I wouldn't love you.

I had built up and wrapped so much love around your sister; I didn't yet understand how it could widen to encompass you both, to deepen for our whole little family.

You were born and I saw you and cried. Because the love was there; it was immediate and all encompassing. It wrapped around the miracle of you -- your lovely limbs stretching, your lungs filling with life.

While pregnant, I was stunned when I saw one of your eyes during an ultrasound. It stared outward with perfect clarity, looked like a wide almond with a full moon, perfect pupil within.

You were born and I cried, too, because I could finally see that eye again, see the realness of you, see you look at me with such precious wonder.

And here you are now with your sweet sounds and gestures, your full cheeks and lovely smiles. With your impressive appetite, your spunkiness when you know what you want.

You are affectionate and curious, alert and easily soothed. You are wonderful at eating, sleeping and growing. You love to listen to your Daddy sing. You lean into my kisses. You love to watch your big sister, to see her play and talk to you, to have her proudly show you how she gets dressed in the morning, how she brushes her teeth. You have inspired her to cover our fridge with drawings of our family, with drawings for you.

You have added so much love to our lives in less than two short months. As your Daddy says, "Life is grand watching babies grow."

You are my second, but you are never second, dear one.

Love,
Mama