Dear Manly,

We had a rough start, you and I.

I lay in the hospital bed. My body tensing with each contraction. My mind teeming with trepidation. I was not prepared. I had anticipated a few more weeks before facing the reality of a life with two babies. I had expected to have someone at hand to take care of your sister, the Queen. I had planned on a week in which your father did not have a tough exam.

You had other plans. Maybe you were getting to cramped in my cozy womb. Or, perhaps, you wanted to meet your aunt A. Whatever the reason, you came.

Your daddy held my hand as my body prepared to birth you. The doctor informed me I could push. You were ready. I was ready.

Out you came, into my waiting arms. I looked at you. I stared at your beautiful face. I counted all your fingers and toes. I cried. My fears subsided. I held you close. I whispered, "Hi, Manly. I am your mom. I am so glad you are here."

We came home from the hospital. You met your sister. She didn't know what to think of you, at first. Quickly, she warmed up to your presence. She kissed you when you cried. Poked your eyes. Snuggled with you on the couch.

A month has passed. The first few weeks were like a pleasant dream. You slept well. You ate well. You snuggled and loved your mum.

Until now. Colic has entered uninvited. He has consumed your cute, chubby, face. He has tormented your sleep (and mine). He has made you cry.

I do not like Colic. Anything that makes you sad, makes me sad too. I want to push Colic away, but he is adamant at staying. He demands I give up milk and spicy foods on the empty promise of leaving. He distorts your face into pain filled grimaces. He wakes you up at night and does not allow you to return to Sleep's blissful arms. When you do sleep, you sleep fretfully.

I am worn and exhausted.

Late at night I wonder how I can help you. If I am providing enough nourishment for you. If I am giving you enough love. I wonder if you love me.

Then, you smile. You rest your head on my chest. Our hearts sing a song, your song. I pick up the tune. The words wrap themselves around us. The frustration and sorrow disappear.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better,

Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,
I know right now it is rough. Your tummy hurts. I give you drops that advertise comfort. Sometimes they work, most times they don't. It doesn't matter because, Manly I will hold you and comfort you. I will love you. Forever.

Love,
Ambrosia