Taking care of a brand new little person is a lot more difficult than I ever anticipated. Just when I think his tummy is full & he's clean all over - something inevitably spews out of his little body. The last day or so has been a rash of spitting up (and one projectile vomiting incident. Seriously, it looked like a fountain coming out of his mouth). The few days before that, peeing out the back of his little newborn diapers. Four outfit changes in less than an hour. Our laundry schedule is on serious overload.
[As I sit here now, with the little man on my lap while I type away, more spit-up arrives on the scene.]
But then an even weirder phenomenon occurs. I start to look into his little eyes, to watch the myriad of expressions that cross his face in the course of 30 seconds, and I fall in love all over again. This effect is strengthened when his little eyes stare back into mine, or when his tiny baby fingers grasp my own adult-sized finger.
Yes, Michael Ryan, I will continue to care for you, change your diapers, wipe the spit-up off your face, change those urine soaked little outfits & bedsheets - even when my OCD cleanliness factor can't stand it anymore (it's a genetic thing - just ask my mother, or grandmothers). I'll wash a load or 2 of laundry every day, even though it takes 3 days for the same load of clean clothes to make it back into the drawers. And, most especially, I promise to keep covering your face in mommy kisses and to always snuggle with you and hold you and rock you and comfort you. Because you are a gift. A very precious gift.