19 Days

Much ado is made about the maternal (and paternal) instinct to love your child, even before he is born. When I was pregnant with Holden, I went to prenatal yoga classes where the instructor often told us to rub our tummies and show our babies how much we loved them, sending them energy bursts of warmth - or some equally cheesy thing. I found this silly. And then I, of course, worried that I apparently didn't have that maternal instinct of unconditional love. And I'd be lying if I said I fell "immediately in love" with my boys, as many new mothers claim they felt at first glance of their slimy, squirmy, purple offspring. I mean, I didn't even know them!

I don't know how long it was until I felt "love" for Holden. I remember telling him in a bleary-eyed moment during one of our many middle of the night feedings. But with Riley, once the first "I love you" was whispered into his soft head for the first time, I took note.

He was 19 days old. That's not to say I didn't love him before that, because, despite what I said above, I suspect I've always loved him on some level. But to TELL him - well, that was a big step in our relationship.

What strikes me is not so much that I love him, but that I can love this little being who offers nothing in return but sleepless nights spent nursing and pacing the house and explosive poop.

I love you, Riley!