My Son IS A Handful

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I hear it all the time. I think the people who say it mean well. Maybe I’m just being sensitive, but it really rubs me the wrong way. So for the record: yes, my son is a handful. Not in the incredibly difficult losing all my hair sort of way that you mean. He’s a totally different kind of handful and he has been since the day he was born.

He came into the world quietly in the middle of the night. The midwives were so surprised at his size: nearly 10 pounds of soft baby skin and sweet baby warmth.  He lay on my chest and looked up at me with big eyes.  He smiled from the first day. I held him, feeling his weight as he nursed… just minutes old. He was a handful. He was bigger than the other babies. The biggest born at the hospital that day.  He was the most delicious handful I have ever held in my life. At just a week old, my arms were sore from learning to hold a 10 pound infant around the clock. He was a handful, but I couldn’t put him down.

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