Dear Abby,
Your father and I didn't have the foresight to realize that every time anyone writes you an email or note, they're going to feel like they're asking for advice. If you don't get what I just said, it's okay, you're too young, and that's a good thing.

I'm writing this on the day after your 3 week birthday. These past three weeks have been unlike any that I've experienced in my 33 years of life. They have been both hellish and magical at the same time. I hope you're not traumatized by the fact that I use the word hellish. But to be frank, it has been hard. Between being on pitocin for almost 24 hours, pushing your big head of out of my lady parts, not being able to pee or poop on my own, not getting more than a few hours of sleep at a time, sore and cracked nipples, your little toothless gummy mouth chomping on my nipples, endless pumping, endless rounds of feeding, not understanding your cries, fearing that I'm going to hurt you, fearing that I'm not doing enough, fearing that I'm not feeding you enough, fearing that I'm spoiling you, and fearing that I'm just not cut out for this, it has been a hellish three weeks.

But really I'm doing this all for you. I look at you and still can't believe that you're half me and half your daddy. I look at the way your daddy holds you and my heart wants to burst with love and tears. I hope one day I can describe how in love he is with you and how one day you're going to break his heart. He runs to your room when you cry to comfort you. Before and after feedings he'll purposely stay in your room because he can't get enough of you. He's taken and printed innumerable pictures of you. He thinks about you at work, and home, all the time. And he's been super-dad and super-mom during the moments where it's been too hard for me to handle. You are so lucky to have a daddy who loves you this much, and part of my excitement is to see the bond that grows between you.

My heart also wants to break when I hear your grandma, my mom, talk to you. Wai-po adores you like I've never seen her adore anyone else, not even your aunt Roz and I. To her, you are the most adorable, most wide-eyed, most aware and intelligent baby in the world. She'll do anything for you - take the night feeding shift, hold the monitor all day and night, stand over me while I feed to help me keep you awake. She has also been my rock during these three weeks and to be honest, I don't know where I would be and where you would be without your grandma and your daddy.

That leaves me and you. Sometimes I look down at you and just beg you not to cry. Sometimes I just want to cuddle you against my chest. I wish this storm would pass and allow me to really enjoy you. I wish I didn't give myself so much pressure to give you the best because I know you'll turn out to be wonderful no matter what I do. After all, it's not really about what I do but it's about me placing you at God's feet. No matter how much I want you to eat or sleep or behave, or who you eventually date or marry or where you go to college, ultimately I have no control and it's all in God's hands. I guess it's good that I'm learning this lesson early, but it's not easy.

You're teaching me so much. You're teaching me how selfish I am, how much I value sleep, comfort, and convenience, how I've been living for myself. But now I have you, my little peanut, who depends on my completely, and I have to give up everything for you. I still get frustrated with you when you don't do what I want - when you suckle but fall asleep. When you get restless during naps. When you poop after I've already changed your diaper countless times. I pray that God uses you to teach me patience and unconditional love. God sent his son down to die for my sins - the ultimate inconvenience - the least I can do is to sacrifice my agenda and my comfort for you.

To be honest, there have been moments where I just want to dig a hole and crawl in. Or put on my earplugs and drown you out. But I think I'm getting better. I would never ever leave you in a situation where you weren't completely protected and loved.

One day when you read this I will hopefully have gotten to a point where I feel human again, where I can call friends and feel joy in life. Until then, I lean on God's strength day by day, feeding by feeding, moment by moment, to love you, to care for you, and to give up of myself.

My little angel, this is all for you. You're only three weeks old and you teach me so much already. I love you.

Mommy