Dear Little Boy,
I love the way you smile as you're falling asleep, especially if someone is rubbing your head. I love how you sit in your little man chair and string sounds together into conversation, complete with inflection and facial expression. I love the way your eyes brighten as you wake to find me close to your face, ready to kiss your nose. I love how you intently study any new object until you give yourself hiccups. I love the way you considerately give two punctuated cries of discontent when you are wet or otherwise unhappy, prior to breaking into an all-out wail. I love how you throw a fist pump in the air when you're done eating, how your arms and legs move in all directions like a caffeinated techno dancer when you're excited, and how you stick out your tongue when you're most happy. I love pretty much everything about you, in all the moments God has given us together these past two months.
I don't want to miss any of your moments. I know you won't remember if I was there when you took your first steps or had your first fall -- but I will. I have spent every day of the last eight years trying to survive medical training to be able to practice independently. And I have spent every day of the last two months trying to find a reason not to give it all up to stay home with you. This just goes to show that the good things God gives us are better than any we could acquire for ourselves.
There is so much more to say to you, little one. Most of all, I hope you know you are loved. By me, yes. But by Someone far greater than me. Someone who will never fail you; Someone who has never failed us, or anyone in history. His love is the greatest of all, and that's what this love letter (and every one I will write in the future) is about. You are one of His many good gifts. And I love you.