Dear Sweet Baby,

You are not a baby anymore and if I called you “sweet baby” you would say, “I’m not a baby! I’m just Jack!” But to me it seems like just yesterday you were that baby. The baby that changed everything that life is all about for me. It seems like it has gone by so fast yet I feel like I’ve known you for an eternity. Like you were always here on some level and you were just waiting for your chance to meet me in this life.

Looking at your old pictures you are almost unrecognizable. I can hear your voice and laugh and eyes, but your face is changing. You are looking more and more like your own unique person. I am so proud of you. I am so proud of everything that you are. I love getting to know you every minute of my life.

That’s why I am writing to you. I want to say that I am going to miss you. In a few weeks another baby will join our family. And while I know we will all grow in deep and profoundly loving ways that we can’t even imagine right now, I can’t help but feel like I am losing a little bit of you. I can’t believe it’s already time to say goodbye to what we have. We talk about new beginnings, but with beginnings come ends. And life with you as I know it is ending. And it’s hitting me with intense waves of sorrow.

I am going to miss sitting in the rocking chair for hours on end nursing you as you play with my necklace with one hand and wrap your other arm around my waist. You look around the room and up at me with your big blue eyes. You giggle when I tickled your arm and play with your toes. You are my everything. You always will be.

I am going to miss gently picking you up once you have dozed off and carrying you to the bed. You stay latched on as I lie down with you and stroke your hair. Lately you unlatch after a while, roll over into me and say “put your arm around me.” I put my arm around you and you fall asleep. You are so pure and gentle.

I am going to miss spending all day to get to the park. You walk slowly down the street looking at and touching everything. You take your time to take in your world. You look everyone in the eye. You let all the dogs lick your face. You love life.

I am going to miss spending my everyday getting to know you and calling it my “job” as a Stay at Home Mom. This isn’t a job. This is something like God’s work. Something spiritual. People aren’t their jobs. I am your mother. It defines me in this life. You define me. You have given me meaning. You are more than a child. You are my teacher, my inspiration and my guide.

We were just getting used to the awesome chaos. We struggled through many days; struggling to breastfeed; struggling to get along; struggling to figure each other out. We by no means have it all figured out by now, but we have figured a lot of things out. I planned so many times to make all of my mistakes up to you. I had always looked at it like we had the rest of our lives. But we don’t. I don’t think I will ever be able to catch up with all of the things I want to make up to you. We will never get this time back. We will never be just “Jack and Mama.” And I will keep making mistakes and hoping that someday I can take them all back. How will I ever be able to make it up to you?

I worry about you. Will you feel pushed to the side? Will you feel less than my everything? Will your feelings be hurt? Will you feel jealous? Will you be OK?

Right now I want to freeze time. I want this moment to live forever. I want to take you all in. Your eyelashes, your knees, your fingers, your hair. I want to take all of you in forever. I want to see all of your moments. I miss many of them now with the chaos of life. We are about to enter a new chaos. A chaos that makes this look like the calm before the storm. How will I ever be able to keep up with you and your moments?

I didn’t know that what we have right now is so special. If I had known I would have tried harder to stay calm when you didn’t want to sleep, to put the vacuum away and run up and down the hall with you, to skip the worrying and stay in the moment with you. What I wouldn’t give to have all of that time back now.

You and I are still together. We are so lucky. But right here in this moment I can’t help but feel I will lose a part of you. I know, it’s all going to be OK and our love will never die, but right now I want to say, before the storm hits, that I am going to miss you my sweet baby. I am going to miss our life right now as you made it. The best I’ve ever had.

Abby Theuring, MSW