|Images from Pinterest.|
When I was pregnant people told me that I would love Little Man more than I could imagine. I just nodded and smiled. What did they know? I already loved the kicking, hiccuping, squirming baby inside of me. We had bonding time on the way to work when I would talk to him and he would move and kick in response. I'd rub my belly at night and tell him all I hoped for him. I loved him. There was no way the love I felt for the little being inside of me could be bigger or more intense.
And then I met him. I can't even describe the overpowering waive of utterly unconditional love I felt at that very moment. Nothing else in the world mattered.
|First picture of my guy. Thirty-seven plus hours of labor couldn't make this moment less perfect.|
And so now, two months and one day later, my love grows bigger and bigger each day. Even on horribly reflux-y days when there is more time spent crying and fussing than gazing lovingly at his mommy, Little Man is the best thing that has ever happened to me. Both Beau and I wonder what took us so long. We finally feel like we have found our purpose in this world. So it seems that all of those people were right.
Life, it seems, is made up of stages. What stage are you in? Does it define you?