Him.

Born at 40 weeks and (hardly) one day on 2 April 2014.

The day my heart grew bigger and softer.

Him.

With his chubby body and innocent gaze.

With those babbling sounds that hint: “I like this”.

Him.

With sighs that show he adores to be held.

Him.

With the brand new hair.

The soft skin.

The toothless grin.

The chubbiness.

Did I mention the chubbiness?

You can read about motherhood.

You can rationalise motherhood.

You can listen to your mother and grandmother.

And google to your heart’s content.

But becoming a Mum is another story.

Not just because of the ‘how to’ of getting baby dressed and fed in the morning and making the days meaningful until he hits the cot at night.

The business is intense. Feeling-wise.

The bond.

The glue.

The connection.

The exhaustion and the excitement of another day together.

The routine and the realisation that time just flies.

That this chubby one won’t stay this chubby forever.

That, one day, he will also have chubby ones to look after.

That it’s all so finite, so precious, so incredibly sweet.