My sweet little monkey,
Today you’re six months old and I was about to write that these have been the best six months of my life. But I promised I’d never lie to you and that would be a lie. Becoming parents is not easy. It changes you forever, the relationship, the way we think, the way we argue, the way we are together. Your dad and I had our first real conversation—as adults, without funny voices—probably just a month ago. We had good days, bad days, great ones and very bad ones. We laughed, we cried, we worried, we had fun, we went nuts. It’s been a real rollercoaster since you came.
If they told me that to go on, I’d have to redo it all, would I? The long 9 months waiting for you, the endless last two weeks, the contractions, the excruciating pain, the terror in my mind right before you were born, the long nights, the even longer days, the breakdowns, the tears of joy and everything else in between.
Oh yes. I would. Starting today. Because you’re the most amazing person I’ve ever met and my eyes get teary the minute I start thinking how incredible you are and how incredibly you’re changing every day right in front of our eyes. And now I know. Your dad and I might be very successful in life, but you will always be our greatest achievement.
We thought we loved you the minute we held you. That wasn’t even close to the love we feel today. When you smile, when you get scared and your smile slowly turn into pout and tears, when you fight sleep—yes, even then!—when you see something you want and your mouth goes into a kiss shape, when you laugh out loud every time daddy is… daddy, when you have your longest conversations with who knows who, when you do something new and your eyes light up—”I did it!”—when you stare silently at people talking, when you just stay still and take it all in.
Every second of every hour of every day we love you a tiny bit more.
Happy half birthday, Oliver.