Let's pretend I wrote this yesterday.

Dear Rhys,
You turned four months old today. All day, I debated whether or not to give you your first taste of rice cereal. What mommy is ever ready to watch her baby move on to this new stage of baby-ness? It requires a small amount of letting go and "this is the beginning of the end-ness." Can you tell your mommy's dramatic? Fear not, though, sweet one. You did have rice cereal tonight, and you'll get more tomorrow at lunch and dinner, since the first taste probably won't aggravate your tummy.

I worried over you and your brother today as I watched Tyra. The CW aired an old episode that I caught the beginning of right before I had to wake you to go pick up G from MDO. Tyra's first guest was a sexually confused teenage girl who confessed only after her mom came out on stage that she'd been molested when she was eight. Her mom never knew about that until that moment on national television. My hope and my prayer for you and your brother is that no one - adult or peer - ever makes you feel so scared of possible consequences or repercussions that you think you can't tell your daddy and me absolutely anything. I want you to know that nothing you can do can make me love you any less or any more. You've done nothing to earn my love, and you can do nothing to lose it. Sure, you can confuse me, irritate me, annoy me, frustrate me. But you can never lose me. Even when my body is gone, I hope my love will remain in your heart and mind. Love, Mommy