Dearest Baby Boy,
You will have a to
explain excuse any gobble-dee-goop that may find its way into your letter. It is because, you are very possibly more stubborn than I ever hoped to be.
You are just barely 8 hours old. After 46 hours of labor, of course I am on a tumultuous amount of medication. Then add to everything, the c-section I ultimately took in the end. But you know what, son? You are the most precious, glorious, and best thing that has ever happened to me and I wouldn’t change a thing. Well maybe the length of time spent in the hospital, the amount of pain (but thank goodness for hospital drugss!) and endless amount of cords gushing from my body. Let’s put it this way; I’m more complicated than stereo instructions.
Son, I apologize but I must pick this back up tomorrow. I have very little control over my hands right now and the ongoing threat of passing out right here and now. Drugs are bad, son. You’re never allowed to do them.
I love you forever and always and more,
P.S. The first thing your Nona said about you when you were born, “He’s perfect in every way.”