I love how Brielle smells. She’s a scentful combination of fresh skin, sweet milk and the miracle oflife. I love how she grunts and snorts like a piglet when she’s come unlatched from the breast and is trying to find the nipple again. I love how she moves her head back and forth and seems to butt my breast as if she were a newborn calf learning to nurse. I love how she sighs and relaxes with contentment, one tiny hand clutching my neck when I put her up on my shoulder. I love how she’ll make eye contact with me and will frequently smile when I am inches from her tiny face or when I stroke her soft cheek. I love her eyelashes, each one clearly defined on her cheek as she slumbers and yet barely measurable in length or breadth. I love how her nine pounds is covered in blond peach fuzz, especially on her thighs and shoulders. I love how her Buddah boobies and fat little milk belly are placed atop legs so skinny and useless. I love her belly button, right now an outie, desperately trying to be an innie. I love how she’ll lie relaxed in my arms and fall asleep. I love how she will allow herself to be put down and won’t cry. I love how she rarely has moments of inexplicable fussiness. I love how she’ll soundly sleep for three hours at a time. I love her soft little head encompassed by dark silky hair that is long enough to get messy and stick out. I love the blue of her eyes. I love her feet, each one as long as my thumb, usually pink, but sometimes one will turn an odd shade of purple; hands, reaching out, grasping for nothing and everything; her little mouth, her top lip a perfect bow complete with a nursing callous. I love how she’ll sometimes try to suck on my bottom lip, as if she already knows that I am the one who comforts and cares for her. I love this breath of heaven, this bundle of God’s perfection, created with a special purpose and place in our family, and in this world, this whisper of our Maker’s love for us.