Just over six months ago I gave birth to the most amazing little man. I still can't believe it.
I teach high school English and when the students I had last year stop by my classroom to see pictures of my baby, it seems that we all remark on how bizarre it is that he is the same person that was growing in my belly while we read The Scarlet Letter and A Raisin in the Sun together last school year. Pretty weird when you think about it, isn't it?
In fact, when Gavin was first handed to me after he was born he was doing normal newborn fussing and when I held him and looked in his eyes for the first time I said, "Hello... I'm your mom." He immediately seemed to know my voice. The look he gave me was like, "I know that voice. It's you! Thank god!" He got quiet and seemed to study me. It was incredibly surreal.
Every night when I read him a story, and every morning when I sing him the good morning song I made up, I can tell he is soothed by my voice. It is the coolest feeling I've ever felt to be able to comfort my child with something I've had my whole life. My voice isn't something I have to work at, or modify, or spend money to improve. In a strange way, my voice, which I've used in my career for the last 9+ years reading to other people's kids, is now my favorite connection to my own son.
