The moment they put you in my arms for the first time was hands down the best moment of my life. It’s a memory that will forever be etched in my mind- the weight of you, the smell of you, the peace and love that filled my soul. Pure magic.
Three years with you, my boy. You’ve been with us now for the same amount of time we struggled to have you, wondering if you ever would be. Looking back I can see so clearly how each piece of the journey was preparing me to be your mama.
You do things your own way, on your own time. Just like when you took your time snuggling in as an embryo, leaving us waiting with baited breath. Teaching us to rely on God for patience.
Or how you insisted on snubbing all of your mama’s birth plans, refusing to flip head down no matter what I tried- forcing a c-section when all I wanted was a “natural” birth. It was as if you were warning me for what was to come: “don’t make too many plans, mom. None of this is going to go the way you thought it would, I’m gonna do it my way.” Oh, my independent little boy. I can’t help but laugh because really, with us as your parents how could I expect anything different.
You have made me a fighter. Your very existence is proof that deep inside me is the heart of a warrior. I fought to have you, fought to breastfeed you when many told me to just let it go, fought through postpartum anxiety to make sure I am the best mom I can be for you. I will never stop fighting for you, my love. Never. You’ve made me a mama bear, fierce.
I put you to sleep last night explaining that magic will come to you in the night and when you wake up you will be THREE. But the truth is, the magic didn’t appear last night. The magic started the day you were created and was with you every single day since. There was magic in each new word, each new step, each belly laugh, each “I miss you, mama”. Watching you grow is magic. You are magic, my son.
Each year your birthday is equal parts heartbreak and joy. Sad to leave behind another year knowing I will never again have two-year old you, but so very proud of the boy you are becoming and joyful that I have a future with you in it.
You correct me now, each time I call you “baby” – “no, mommy, I’m a big boy”. But you will always be my baby, my love. Always.
Happy Birthday, sweet boy. May this year bring more magic than the last.
