When you were born you were so precious. We took you home – despite our protests that they were making a mistake, that we had no idea what we were doing! We had a crib, a bassinet, and a cozy little infant seat for you, but you slept on my chest for the first two weeks. You were so little and you fit so perfectly there with my arms cradling you. I was terrified by how much I loved you. Literally, terrified.
Back when I was pregnant with you I started making your baby book. I put a quote on the first page, “Making the decision to have a child – it is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body” (Elizabeth Stone). I thought it was sweet. After I had you I knew that it was true – really, really true. I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest and was laying on the changing table in front of me, cooing and chewing on its toes. It was unbelievable. Perhaps that’s why I kept you so close to my chest those first few weeks.
Over the years I’ve grown accustomed to the feeling. There goes my heart on the jungle gym. There goes my heart to school. So, when your brother was born I wondered how that would feel. It wasn’t terrifying the second time. I got the jump on the fear and simply gave him my heart.
So, there you two go, my heart walking around outside my body; one half on the swings, the other half on the slide. You have no idea, do you? Have you every wondered why I hold you so close? It’s just my heart coming home for a visit.