Dear Brantley,
Tonight after you finished your bottle I sat and rocked you and fought back tears. I quietly pulled out my cell phone and texted your dad to come take a picture of us. In my favorite place with my favorite little man. Because there will come a time when the feeling of your little hand on my chest will be gone. The sound of your heavy breathing and the smell of the top of your head will be memories. Memories I will desperately be trying to keep from fading. And I wanted this picture to help keep me in this place.
I don't remember what our life was like before you. I don't remember what nights were like before sneaking in to your room to feed you your last bottle of the day while you sleep against my chest. And I'm okay with that.
Sweet Dreams, Mister.
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