Henry is 6 months!

Prior to this, 6 months was nothing. A length of time between hair cuts, the waiting period between visits back home, how long it might take me to get through a pack of gum. Merely small incidents that dotted my years and counted my seasons. But yesterday marked the fastest and most incredible 6 months of my life. This boy, this rudy faced little baby is morphing into something else entirely right before my eyes. I can see the careful stare and gentle hand of a man in him emerging more and more each day. I find myself wondering how long each blessed ritual will last as I squeeze the water from his favorite frog bath sponge. I hope and pray every night that I'd done good by him, that I taught him something new, kissed him enough, praised him enough, loved him enough...for 6 months, 6 short months, and yet - parts of me are frozen. I physically have to remind myself that I didn't 'JUST' have a baby. That life is rolling along in other areas, and that they too need tending (like my eyebrows for crying out loud!).

6 months. Half a year, gone. Each detail collected within him, molding him, making him more or less of the things that he will grow to be. All day I found myself catching my breath at how incredible it is, and how lucky I am. 

6 Months...

Happy half birthday my darling boy. You are truly my everything.

The ground dropped out from underneath me on the day you were born.  The world disappeared into a blur, a distant hum.  You are my only focus.  My greatest joy.  You are the love of my life.  My best six months.  I love you, Henry.  


I love you, boy.

Henry, 6 weeks.

A Henry was born...


 Never has it felt so against me. 
In these past few months I have been letting this blog stew tenderly in my mind. With each precious moment, of which there are so many, I have made a mental note to add it to the pot. At night when I'm rocking in a dark nursery, with only a sliver of light stretching out from the door to greet us, I want to collect the silence. After my son has had his fill and curls up into my chest, drunk with milk, I want to add the contentment. While gently lowering myself and my 4 week old into a warm bath, a moment I've looked forward to since forever, I note to add my confidence.
When it seems he can cry no more and throws another hour of it in the ring, I want to add my patience. While I hum 
songs to him at the changing table and he grins wildly at me,
I note to add this joy. When walking about town and a 
stranger stops at his cuteness, I want to add my pride. In the evening when Keith comes home to find his son is still awake 
and complete elation lights up my boy's faces, I want 
to add their adoration...

But like I said, time is against me. At two months old I see this chubby baby where my stretched out little newborn was, and I just want to bawl. I can't imagine him not being as perfect as he is or being as happy
as he makes us at this very second. So, the thought of time passing, becoming something else, 
moving one step closer to the day when he will no longer be
my sweet noodle, kills me. All the while I am
hovering in each moment, never wanting to miss a thing (or to forget it to share/archive) and the list grows longer and longer; right along with the list of chores to do, people to call, etc.

There was no preparing for this, every mothers advice stating as much is true. There are no words for this love.

And so my friends, Henry Porter Yeomans has arrived. And with him he has brought more love, fear, passion, joy and gratitude than I have ever known. Yes, I am addicted to this point in my life, to my sweet joyful son, to the man I married and now love more than I ever thought possible; and like an addict, I am desperate for these quiet days with my son like nothing I've ever wanted before. It's truly amazing...
that anyone can be this happy. And while he changes daily, getting more rolls by the minute and his red tuft of hair in the front longer, I change too. I'm one of those women I could never see
myself becoming - an obsessed mommy who doesn't seem to find
the time to brush her hair, but
has all the time in the world for her baby (or anything 
remotely related to said baby).

Welcome my darling son, I hope the world for you 
(and also that you don't grown to resent this mommy/shadow 
you have).

Henry Porter Yeomans
5:10 am
7 lbs  14 oz 
22 inches
Long Beach, CA

best. thing. ever.

We love you noodle.