I've been up for over an hour, with a messy diaper change and hungry little boy to blame.
But I'm not complaining. I am overwhelmed with gratitude for the opportunity to be able to have a child, to wake up to the little grunts and squeaks letting me know he is hungry, to see my sleepy husband's face and realize our son has the same expression on his. I first look at Roland's long thin arms and legs, then move onto his fingers and toes, inspecting the DNA we passed on to our little one. I smell his head and stroke his oily baby hair while I whisper a lullaby as he settles back down into sleep.
I lay him on my chest and watch his tiny back rise and fall with each breath, I smile when he scoots up to snuggle with my neck.
He looks up at me with serious but trusting deep blue eyes.
I cannot think of a better way to spend my time, to loose sleep and grow old, than the labor of love.