Miles. Miles, Miles, Miles. My little prince. How on earth did this happen? How are you three whole months old?
You are so special. I tell this to everyone when they ask how you are, "He's such a special guy." I knew it the first moment I laid eyes on you. No, no, I didn't. It wasn't until that first smile, at a mere two days old, that's when I knew. You are so calm and so patient and so impossibly sweet. I can't help but wonder what I did to be so lucky as to have you in my life.
You are laughing out loud now, these great baby belly laughs that bring tears to my eyes every time I hear them. You are grabbing at toys, splashing in the tub, blowing raspberries, cooing and talking up a storm. You give me little miracles every day. I though because you were my second baby that things would not seem as amazing, but they really do. Even more so. It's all new all over again.
You are funny. You love it when I munch on your arms and legs and when I blow raspberries on your tummy. You like being held, but prefer to be sitting across from me, so we can interact. You look so much like your brother but you have dimples on your cheeks where he has none; a much more generous double chin; smaller ears; smaller feet; more and darker hair; steely gray eyes; you are taller and fatter; quieter; more mellow.
And what a championship nurser you are! I had so much trouble with your brother in those first few weeks that I almost gave up. But not you. You latched on within moments of your birth and have rarely left my breast since. By three months old, Oscar was easily distracted and had trouble settling down for a good feeding. Not you, Miles. You love nothing more than to hunker down for a good, long nursing session; to fall asleep with your face pressed up against me, breathing in the sweet smell of my milk-scented skin.
Every time you grin at me I almost cannot believe that you are mine, my bright-eyed, fat baby. I feel like you are such a precious gift, like I am especially blessed to have had you, Miles, as my second son. Maybe it is because you were unplanned - you could have so easily not been here had we been more "careful," had the mood and opportunity for your conception not coincided. I could have missed out on you and all your sweetness.
I am enjoying all of this baby-ness so much more this time around. I could not wait for your brother to coo, to roll over, to sit up, to crawl, to walk, to talk. With you, I am content to just sit and hold you and look at your silly baby faces and listen to your sweet sighs of contentment as you nurse yet again. What a privilege it is to be a mother, any mother, but your mother in particular. I will continue to watch you grow and ache as your babyhood passes. Not to fast, little one. I am enjoying this.