Dear Isaac,
This morning you climbed into bed with me way too early. Since I can't sleep very well these days, I watched you as you snuggled into the crook of my arm and drifted off again. You looked so little and so warm and so sweet. I gently kissed your cheek and was struck by how soft and smooth it felt. For more than two years, you've been my baby. Your sister gets sent back to bed when she tries to join us in the middle of the night. Your big brother knows not even to try. But because you're my baby, I let you get away with it.
When Annie was born almost five years ago, Bryce was just a little bit younger than you are right now. He came to visit us in the hospital the morning she arrived, and I felt like a full-fledged child had come in the night and replaced my baby boy. Compared with Annie, Bryce was so big, so rough, and so heavy. I've always felt like his babyhood ended that day.
Now, my sweet Isaac, you're on the brink. You think you're such a big boy, who runs around with lightsabers and talks about Chewbappa and 33PO. But you're still my baby. You're still the one I pull onto my lap and wrap my arms around when I need a snuggle. But in a few weeks, there's going to be a new girl in town, and she'll be so much needier and softer and baby-er. I'll still want to pull you on my lap and carry you on my hip, but I've been through this twice before-- I know it won't ever be the same.
So before she gets here, let me snuggle you just a little bit more than usual. I feel a little bit like I'm pushing you off a diving board. I know you'll be ok in the water, and stronger for being there, but I still hate to do it.
Get ready for the big time, my baby boy.
Love,
Mommy
--originally published 12/6/06
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