Dear Evita Pilar,
Your warm little body is snug asleep against my chest as I write this. You are 18 days old- still so tiny but growing so fast. I’ve been trying to savor every second I have with you at this stage. I dread the days when my memory fades. I worry I won’t remember what an amazing feeling this is- the newness of motherhood and having you to love. That’s why I take so many pictures of you everyday and write stuff down in this blog. As much as I write and photograph, though, there is one thing I will never be able to document- your smell.
Before I had you, if someone were to ask me what my favorite smell was I would say the ocean or the resin used to fix surfboards. Or maybe sunscreen or a plumeria tree. But those things I can smell again and again, whenever I’d like. And none of those things smell nearly as good as you do. I know it’s probably just an evolutionary attachment response but that doesn’t take away from how much I love it. Your dad thinks you just smell like milk, or like other babies, but you don’t to me. I’ve worked at daycares and have smelled babies all day, but you’re different. That’s why I’m sad that one day I will never be able to smell your baby smell again. I probably won’t even notice when it happens. One day you just won’t be a baby anymore; you’ll be a little girl. And when I realize that, I’ll probably be a mess! So for now I’ll take big, long, deep breaths whenever you’re lying on my chest and I’ll enjoy your lovely smell for as long as I can.