Dear Ernie

Dear Ernie,

You are eight weeks old and this is the first time I am writing to you since you have been born. These eight weeks have been a whirlwind; an amazing, breath taking whirlwind with you at the heart of it all. But throughout the flurry of visitors, your sister’s craziness and the inevitable daily debris left by two children, you – my beautiful boy – have been the calm amidst the storm.

I haven’t known you long but what I know of you so far is how gentle you are, how soft and loving and calm. In so many ways you are the opposite of your crazy big sister who made her presence known from the moment she was born. You’re my gentle giant, so quiet and calm that we are often guilty of forgetting that you are even in the room. Life can be so chaotic and you’ll just be there, amongst it all, snoozing peacefully.

Your size is often commented on, because at this point in your life I suppose that is one of your strongest talking points. But as the days go on and the weeks go by, we are getting to know you more and more and finding out new things about you and your gorgeous personality:

For a newborn baby you really don’t cry very much which has been such a blessing. You smile easily and often, and the expression of joy on your face is so unbelievably pure and beautiful. The sound of your laugh absolutely melts my heart.

You love to be held but equally sometimes you love to lie independently, on the floor looking up at the trees or at some bright lights. I love watching your eyes follow the shadows and wonder what it is that you’re seeing.

Ernest Grayson, you’re the son that I didn’t know I needed. You’re the piece that I didn’t even know was missing from the puzzle and we would never have been complete without you.

I love you always, my darling boy.