Another {real} Love Letter

My dearest #3,

In just a few short days you will be turning five.  This year, your birthday is hitting me hard.  Harder than any other birthday, any other year.  I am not sure why.

I don’t know where your infant or toddler years went.  I remember telling myself to be present with your tiny self; but somehow I feel like I missed out on your sweet baby smell.  I don’t know how you became a school aged child who will be starting kindergarten in the fall.  I don’t know how I lost and gained half a decade at the same time.  Your fifth birthday has left me reflecting hard, little boy.

Maybe because when I was pregnant with you I felt a connection that I had not in other  pregnancies.  I basked in the comfort of your sweet little soul and precious little spirit.  Like I always tell you:
“You were the sweetest baby in my tummy.”


Or Maybe because your birth left an impression on me. It was an unexpected, hard, fast delivery; one that still feels tangible and close.

Didn’t I just hold you in my arms for the first time last week?

Or Maybe because the last five years have been a blur.  You were just a mere four months old when we found out you were going to be a big brother {SUH-PRIZE}.  Your first year was filled with momma’s morning sickness and preparation for a new life.  You were still a baby yourself and how quickly you were not.  Your youngest of the family status revoked before it even began.

We turned your world upside down once again two years later and you became our middle child.  I can’t help feel like you were a middle child before you officially became one.  The role suits you.

The icing on your cake is that your birthday is a quick two weeks after Christmas; so if you hadn’t already gotten the shaft, I think your birth date seals the deal.  It is at a time of year where most people are either ill, cold-ed in, or recovering from the holiday season.  Birthday parties are nearly impossible to coordinate and trying to find a gift you didn’t already receive a few days ago…how?

But we celebrate you.  We spend a lot of time rather than a lot of money.  We try to make you feel as special on your day as the love we feel for you every day.  I hope that you can sense it.

And will remember it.

I just want to say how much I adore those spider-monkey, bear-hugs that you have perfected and the sound of your sweet raspy little voice.  I could do without all the screaming, but your birth order has afforded you the right to want to be noticed.  I love watching your adorable left- handed self color dinosaur pictures so carefully and intentionally.

I try to tell myself to soak in these moments but time has left me thinking: memories are like scooping sand with a fork; no matter how hard or carefully I shovel, it just keeps slipping right on through.

The years are passing whether I am ready or not.  You are growing up and I find such privilege in being able to watch you do so.

I hope we have many more birthdays together.  I hope time cuts me some slack and will slow down just one day a year; the day you were born.  Because it was and is as magical to me as I try to make the day for you.

I love you, sweet boy.

Now, go play.

 

 

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