Dear Vaughn,

I'm emotional just sitting down to write this. It has been a joy getting to know you over the past three and a half days, little Vaughn. It's always so hard to imagine that the little bean growing inside you is a real person, and then you meet them and fall in love so fast and so hard that you can't imagine life without them. I'm already that smitten.

I'm remembering how the adjustments begin, how we stay up all night with you one night and expect the next to be the same - but you've got your own schedule and it changes daily. You have been strong-willed from the beginning, arriving so quickly the nurses were still getting the bed ready as I started to push, and the midwife had to scramble to get dressed in time. You were early to feed, and then cluster feed to get my milk in, you were ready to leave the hospital in a day, you passed everything with flying colors. Your fingernails were so long and delicate when you were born it looked like you had a french manicure.

Your arrival was so unlike your brother's, and yet you are so much alike as newborns. Your hospital photos show almost identical babies, your birth weight was the same, and your hair is so similar. But I don't know what to expect from you, you will surely be your own little man. I cannot wait to see you grow, but I know I must savor these early days of falling in love, painful as the sleepless nights and cracked nipples may be. You're my baby, my little Vaughn, and we all love you so much already. You tolerate your big brother's kisses and hugs, the photos your dad takes as you sleep, your mama stroking your soft hair as you nurse.

The thought of taking care of a newborn is exhausting in theory. But knowing it's for you, I'm buoyed and sure that we can handle it. I can't wait for your next three days, and the next three, and the next. Before I know it, you'll be three years old like your brother and I will look back and cry again as I read this.

Vaughn Ryan Mulvihill

Born 5/18/2011 6:44am

7 lbs, 13 oz, 21 inches, huge head