It’s been almost six weeks of you here with us and I am only starting to write this letter to you. It’s partly because mama is a bit of a procrastinator and also because things have been chaotic around here. As expected, with a baby and a toddler in one household.
Life with you feels complete and I am so glad that you are here with us now. I was telling your papa that it feels so right to say “my boys” and “my kids”. And even though we opted not to know your sex before your birth, I sort of had a hunch that you were going to be a boy. It’s pretty odd, actually. I was having a nap with your brother one weekend afternoon and I woke up dead certain that I was carrying a “Zac”. I just knew.
And now the pieces of the puzzle fit perfectly.
Maybe I am biased or perhaps it’s the experience talking, but you have been an easy baby so far. When you wail, we pretty much know why or have been able to pacify you somehow. And when you are not wailing, you are either sleeping or sitting quietly in your rocker (a gift from mama’s cousin, how blessed we are!). You are able to focus your eyes on us when we have a chat with you and you coo back at us too, sometimes.
Your coos are just about the cutest things in the world, I tell you. Actually, all your newborn sounds are really pretty damn cute. Your angry yell when I try to burp you against your wishes? Cute. Your little “eh eh eh” when nursing? Cute. Your sailor burps? Cute. Your little sighs after a good feed? Cute.
The only time your sounds are not too cute are when you are making a hell lot of them at night in your sleep. Good god. You have no idea how many times I jumped out of bed, thinking that you were awake and grizzling, when you were really just growling in your sleep.
When you came home with us, you weighed a grand total of 2.7kg. Granted, that was probably a whole 300g heavier than you brother, but you still felt so tiny and fragile in our arms. And now, you have crossed 4.1kg. Still small but so much plumper than before. Those chins! And wobbly cheeks! But I already miss your lightweight baby days.
I could stare at you the whole day, I could. And sniff at your little noggin. And cuddle you in my arms. And kiss your bouncy cheeks. I am so in love with you and so is your por por. She is besotted with you and it’s too adorable to see her shower her love and attention on you.
And so is your brother. He asks to carry you all the time, and is always clambering towards you to “sayang baby” or “kiss baby”. I’m so proud of him, and I hope that the two of you will always have each other’s backs.
It’s now 11.20pm as I write this and I am exhausted. I should be heading to bed soon. You are currently snoozing in your little crib at the foot of mama and papa’s bed, and you’ll probably be looking up at me, wide-eyed, in a few hours’ time.
I’ll scoop you up from your little bed, nurse you and then see you fall dead asleep soon after. I’ll cuddle you upright for a bit (reflux, you see) before placing you gently back into your own bed. And then rinse, repeat, in about two hours’ time.
Ah, all in the day (night) of a mother’s life.
My dearest second-born, welcome home.
Love you to the moon and back,