You Won't Remember, But I Will

You won't remember the way my heart felt when I sat in your rocking chair listening to your father's beautiful voice and guitar playing Somewhere Over the Rainbow the night my water broke.

You won't remember the way I felt in the passenger seat at 3:00 a.m. on the dark and empty roads with your nervous dad next to me, knowing I was going to be meeting you soon, but having absolutely no idea what to expect.

You won't remember the way I adored you the moment I laid eyes on you and how shaky I felt and how momentous the time was when you were placed between me and your daddy for the very first time and we kissed you and touched your little face.

You won't remember the deepness of the love I felt those many late nights I held you and rocked you and tried to put words to my feelings.

You won't remember how excited I was to wake up every morning to you and be reminded that you were mine forever.

You won't remember how your little, beautiful laughter filled my heart to the brim and how healing and precious it sounded to me.

You won't remember the way you completed me, and how you showed me something that I was capable and deserving of.

You won't remember how my visions of life substantially changed from seeing things from my perspective to seeing things from yours and how I began living my life through you.

You won't remember how you would come to me with all the little things like a piece of debris on your little hand that you couldn't wipe off. 

You won't remember the way my heart hurt, yet smiled, while watching you grow and reach each milestone in your first years. 

You won't remember, but I will.  And baby, I will hold these memories in my heart for both you and I.