You came into my life at a time when I already had everything. I didn't need you to make me whole. The day I first held you in my arms, you broke my heart into a million pieces, but you planted a seed there. For all the noise in my head and my body, I could not see you. Hours of holding you, rocking you in my tired arms, changing your diaper, wrestling your clothes on and off, wiping your lips, watching your eyelashes open and close on a cold gray monitor, and pulling you close when all you could do was cry. So many nights where all I wanted to do was sleep, where I could not see an end to the heartache I was feeling for the way things used to be, where I felt like I could never be enough for you. And then one day, I woke up and you were right there in front of me. I realized that every single day with you, no, every single second, is the greatest gift I will ever receive. Like with any good thing, I had to wait for this love to grow inside me. And now my heart only aches with the knowledge that it took me so long to see how precious and wonderful you are. I hold your life in my hands now with reverence and awe, and I honor the divine light inside of you. It shines so brightly that people saw it even before you were born. It's a strange magic that unites us, something I can't even begin to understand. Science calls it "matrescence" or the psychological transition into motherhood. No one told me that it could take months for me to feel like a mother, to find consistent joy in the relentless day to day work that is required to keep a baby healthy and happy. I think even if they did I would not believe them or understand what they meant. But here we are, you and me, staring into each others eyes with a growing hunger. Here we are holding each others hands. I love you so much my sweet boy, and I hope one day you also discover that you love your devoted but imperfect mother.