One month with Brooks Wilder.

This letter was written in mid-July when Brooks was 1 month old but we still hadn't settled on his name. 

Dear Baby,

We've been together one month now and I'm learning you, though I feel we've known each other much longer. 

Here's what I know.

You love the outdoors. In the wee hours of the morning when you wrestle against sleep, you and I will sneak down the stairs and out the back door to the deck at 1:00am and 3:00am and 5:00am. The thick July air hits your face and you immediately calm, your breath slows, your wide eyes gaze up toward the silhouettes of the trees. Though I'm ready to sleep more than 90 minutes at at time, I know these times with you will soon come to an end, and I savor kissing your moonlit cheeks and having you all to myself. We sway and sway until your eyes grow heavy and you drift back to sleep. You love the sound of chirping crickets and running water and I have a feeling you always will. 

The week before we met you, I was working at the hospital and a patient's heart stopped. I happened to be the first one at his side, so I instinctively hopped up on the bed and started chest compressions to attempt to restart his heart. I'm sure it was quite a sight: my 9-months-pregnant belly hunched over a dying man, desperate to revive him. The code team arrived and quickly took over, and I felt a strong contraction as I backed out of the busy room. I thought it might be the perfect way to go into labor (though I didn't for a few more days). But then, I worried that maybe you'd felt the emotional intensity and physical stress of the situation. In reality, I think it must have just rocked you back to sleep. And maybe, in the smallest way, it prepared you for the intensity of a 4-year-old and 2-year-old who can't keep their hands (or lips) off of you. You are the calmest, most peaceful baby I've ever met. 

I've loved getting to know you this past month: the way you grunt like a piglet when you're hungry, and you eat like one too. You gained over 4 lbs. in month 1, shooting you up to the 88th percentile for weight. 

I've also enjoyed getting to know myself in a new way as a mom of three. No one can prepare you for the responsibility and privilege and weight of having three tiny children watching your every move and needing your every moment. 

We sang this hymn in the first church service you ever attended on the outside: 

On Christ the solid rock I stand

All other ground is sinking sand

All other ground is sinking sand

Sweet baby, all other ground: a good night of sleep, health, well behaved children, our own "righteousness" - it's all sinking sand. I place the full weight of my hope and peace on the solid rock of Christ. I pray, more than anything, that you will too. 

I love you, sweet boy,

Mommy