Jonah turns two months today. We have our days and our little life that we live together. Nursing every few hours, usually after piercing hunger screams from the little man. Sleeping in his Moses basket at night, at the foot of the bed. Easy to reach for all the times I have to put the pacifier back in. Wrapped up in his Miracle Blanket that is the perfect color to mimic him as a burrito. He sits in his bouncy seat and looks around the room. And he knows he can bait me with smiles at the most surprising times. We dance around the room when he cries. We quickly reminded ourselves of: Itsy Bitsy Spider, I’m a Little Teapot, Row Row Row Your Boat, Hush Little Baby, Rock a Bye Baby, Freres Jacques, London Bridge is Falling Down, show tunes, Little Mermaid songs and our song together- Close to You by The Carpenters. Bryan and I read books and sometimes Jonah is very chatty. We wipe drool, change diapers, discuss Jonah’s poop and spit-up and when we leave him, we talk about how beautiful he is and we can’t believe he’s ours. When he is nursing, I stare at the S the inside of his ear makes. And that nose. That nose. The conversation piece. Pug, button, upturned, ski jump… best. nose. ever. I could subsist on eating his nose. I examine his skin in long, lazy moments of changing him or rubbing lotion on. Not an imperfection. Isn’t it something that way we all start out so pristine. The bottom of his feet are silky smooth, his hands often clenched in a minuscule fist. Teeny fingernails to cut. Teeny fingernails to stare at. A particular swirl pattern of hair on his head, that I brush after a bath. We sing the swimming song in the bath, the way my mom sang it to me. The way Jonah’s cousins’ mom sings to her boys. We start bedtime routines and traditions- Nascent little traditions that will one day seem so, well, traditional. He is starting to get so curious. My breath has not been the same since he came on 13 June. Does he know how secretly breathless he leaves me? How unconditionally I love him. How little I expect in return. How much more I love his father than I even knew I could. I inhale Jonah’s sweet, delicious baby breath and my mind has no ability to articulate or comprehend our luck. The divine fortune.