From the first second you entered this world, you broke my heart. Your tiny little cry, your precious little face, your head full of dark swirly hair. It broke my heart. Your first latch, your first smiles, your bright blue eyes. My heart filled with so much love that I felt it start to crack. It was overwhelmed.
At two weeks old you took your first little bottle of pumped milk. My heart broke. Soon you started intentionally smiling, rolling over, staring into my eyes as you nursed. And my heart broke.
You would rub my face or arm as you nursed, clap your hands when you were happy and wave. And my heart broke.
It broke when you giggled and cooed and sat up on your own. When you played with your toys and said "Da-da" the first time. It really broke when I cuddled you as you spent your first Christmas with a nasty cold.
My heart broke when you started to give kisses, wave bye, dance and be silly. When you started to intentionally play, chatter and show affection.
With each new word, each new triumph it broke. It still does. Your first steps, your first birthday. *sigh*
But today my heart nearly shattered in half. It wasn't because it was overfilled with joy and pride. Today it was because of my own mistake. I caused you pain. And my heart broke.
The first and only time you drank cow's milk, you got a bad diaper rash and bad tummy pains. Today as I poured a glass for the neighbor girl, I decided to take the doctor's suggestion to try it one last time. It was against my better judgement, what my heart felt. But I did it. Because you were begging for it. You were breaking my heart. You happily drank only an ounce or so, having more fun shaking it up and seeing the frothy bubbles it made. Shortly after, you were fussy and tired and chaos was ensuing around me. I needed to tend to the other daycare kids quickly and hoped that you would fall asleep if I put you in your crib for a few minutes. I laid you down and shut the door. I listened to your screams as I refilled cups, cleaned up messes and played referee. It was only five minutes, but I your heart breaking screams made it feel like hours. I picked you up, expecting you to stop screaming, happy that Mommy was holding you. But you didn't stop. You screamed and thrashed and wailed. And my heart broke. I thought it was because of me letting you unattended in your crib for a few minutes, that your heart was broken. For forty minutes I rocked you, tried to nurse you, rubbed your back, held you as you screamed. My heart broke. Again and again, over and over it broke. You have never acted like that. Never. Never have you been inconsolable. Tears welled in my eyes as I wished Daddy was home to help. I prayed with you. You finally fell asleep. As my hand was on your belly I could feel it rumble and rumble. The milk. The milk did this. My heart broke. When you woke up, again you were screaming in pain. Finally, you got the gas out and you were once again your happy little self. Running, squealing, smiling. And my heart broke.
You'll break my heart everyday. I know it. Sometimes from swells of happiness and sometimes rueful, sometimes painfully, like today. I'm so glad for a broken heart. I hope most are from the heaviness of happiness. I love that you break my heart.