November 28 1997. Annie. Tonight you and I took a bath together with Daddy sitting beside the tub. I tried to nurse you, but a breast is pretty slippery in water, so, when you couldn't get a hold of it, you'd start screaming bloody murder.
I love you madly and passionately, and it feels like I must love you more than any mother in the history of mothers has ever loved any baby in the history of babies. I can’t wait for you to become a little walking, talking girl, but at the same time I want you to stay 5 weeks and 2 days old forever. With a bushy head of dark hair, a big chubby face, no teeth, huge baby eyes, the most beautiful soft round naked human body I've ever seen, toes that grip tightly to my fingers, tiny hands that hold on while nursing, little butt, big smiles, all eyes and gums that make me fill to the top with love and joy and feelings I never knew I had inside of me.
I am not a poet, but once I have settled into being your mom a bit, I will write you a poem. Or I’ll try anyway. Someday I want you to know how much your mom loves you and how happy you’ve made me.
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