Hello again.

We have a baby boy. Owen Samuel Greene and has he stolen our breath and taken over our world. HAS HE EVER. Six weeks ago this Friday, our little man came into the world on his own accord and life since then has been a blissful, exhausting, better-than-I-ever-could-have-imagined-but-harder-than-anyone-ever-tells-you whirlwind.

I have thought of this blog every single day since then. I have thought of this blog for months. I have neglected it and neglected my commitment to document for our little man and for myself the journey that we took to get here. 

Every week during my pregnancy I thought, "I need to go update that blog." And I didn't. And every week since you have been here I have thought, "I need to go write down what happened this week so I don't forget." And I didn't. I meant to. Maybe I should have. But well, I just didn't. 

That is the thing about life. We have so many good intentions. I know I do. But then what happens? Life. Yeah, life happens. I have always striven for perfection. The thing about perfection though...you always, every single time, fall short. Perfection is impossible. It is cruel. Unnecessary. Maybe that is one of the great lessons that you, my sweet boy, will teach me. That perfection, it is not only impossible, it is not something to strive for. I so terribly want to be a good mom. I want to be a good wife, daughter, sister, friend, keep a clean house, and do all the things that I have dreamed up in my head that will, in my mind, make our life better, more memorable, easier, more beautiful, and the list goes on and on. But in doing so, in trying to make things perfect, I miss out on real life. The baby coos, the smiles, the snuggles, the look in your eyes that makes my heart feel like it will literally melt. And those things, I am not willing to pass up. So yes, I may have good intentions every day to get things done or to write in the blog so that you can look back one day and see how much I loved you. Recount all the memories that you will not remember. But instead, I choose to lay on the couch and stare into your closed little eyes for what feels like an immeasurable amount of time. Because before I know it, time will be passing us by and you will be too old to let your sweet mama stare into your eyes. 

I have wished away time for so many years. I had so desperately wanted a baby that I just wanted time to go by as fast as it could. And now, that you are here, I wish I could freeze it. Make it stop. Since I obviously cannot, all I can do is take it all in as slowly and fully as I possibly can. So if I forget to post a weekly update or miss out on writing you a letter, just know that it is not because I simply did not want to. It was because I was busy living. We were busy living. I was busy being your mama and loving you. I was busy soaking in everything that I have prayed so long and so hard for.

Baby boy....as I sat in bed with you tonight after your (what felt like) millionth feeding and held you while you smiled in your sleep, I began to weep. Not tears of sadness or longing, like I used to for so many years. Tears of utter joy. You are such a miracle. The joy in my heart, the feelings of true thankfulness that I have in my heart for you and how amazing you are - words do not even do that justice. Perfect or not, I know I can offer you this. Love. I love you in a way that I never knew I had the capacity to. You, my sweet, sweet baby, have brought life back to me. 

And tonight, your exhausted mama held you in her arms, stared at your beautifully perfect face and rocked you until your tired self finally fell asleep. And I let it all soak in. 

My cup runneth over. Dear God, my cup runneth over.