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Monthly Archives: February 2012

Dear Corwin,

We’ve been at our new place for over a week now. The move proved to be a bit stressful for all of us. You went on a nursing strike, and it wreaked havoc on my hormones. You would scream bloody murder nearly every time I tried to feed you. I cried. I wanted to give up breastfeeding and put you on formula. But I didn’t. I know what’s best for you and by god, you will have it. I have a pretty good idea how puberty is going to be for us now, and if you’re anything like me, it really is going to be rough times. But I will love you through it all. I will give you what you need, even at times when you decide you don’t want it.

While we were packing, you scratched your ear. It bled a little, but you screamed like it was the most awful pain known to man. You screamed all the way to the hospital except for the last 5 minutes when you fell asleep from sheer exhaustion. For someone who doesn’t cry very often, you do it really, really well. When we stepped into the emergency room though, you were all smiles for the doctors and nurses, so much so that a doctor off-duty insisted on checking you up herself and didn’t charge us for it. Who needs health insurance when we have you.

But that’s all over now. There’s no more crying and screaming, thankfully. You’re happily nursing again, and you’re thriving here. Your aunts, uncle, great-uncle and great-aunt all live nearby and visit you almost everyday, much to your delight. You talk their ears off, and you have a ready smile for everyone, even the grandfatherly repairman who’s been helping us fix up the place. His face lights up when you smile at him, and that fills me with such happiness. You bring joy to everyone around you. Considering you’re the son of two introverts, I’d say you’re doing pretty well for yourself.

We’re nowhere near done unpacking, but this feels like home already. Of all the places your father and I have lived, this feels most like home. I thought I would have a difficult time adjusting because it’s so different from everything I’ve known for the past seven years, but surprisingly, I’m really happy here. And a few days ago, I realized one of the biggest reasons why. Our bedroom windows face north. There are no dramatic streams of light through windows here, no dancing shadows. Instead, our entire room is bathed with light. Soft, constant, unwavering light. This is how I hope to love you, even through times when you won’t let me.