Monday, March 23, 2009

Dear Jack,

I am sitting here looking at baby pictures of you and stumped as to where time went. You are on the verge of your 1st birthday, and for the last couple days I have been on the verge of tears as I look at my 'baby' and realize that he is no longer a 'baby'. They said time would go by fast and I didn't listen. I covered my ears with my hands because "this baby just won't stop!" But you did. Eventually you stopped being able to only lift your head and started to roll around the floor. You stopped rolling and started crawling. You stopped crawling and started cruising. And just a couple weeks ago, you let go of the couch cushion and walked to me, arms in the air, laughing all the way.

You baffle me dear sir. Everyday I am constantly perplexed as I watch you. Sometimes, I am able to look at the world through your eyes, and suddenly it's not so scary. Even as this economy flails to keep it's head above water. Even as greed, envy, hate, and fear plague the world I live in, life in your world seems free. Free of corruption, innocent, hopeful. You are fearless.

The other day I spied on you. You were in your own world, sitting at the foot of the couch and reading one of your books. As you flipped the pages you laughed and babbled to yourself, and in the corner I cried. I have cried a lot since you've entered my life, and to my surprise, this is the first time in my life when the tears have been out of happiness.

I cried when I looked at your grey wide eyes, the first time we met and I cried when those eyes turned hazel like your fathers. I cried when we brought you home from the hospital and I cried when you got sick. I cried as I folded up your onesies because you were to big for them. And one day I'll cry because you will outgrow elementary school, and then middle school, high school, and I'll cry again as you leave us for college and life.

I remember after I had you, you all wrapped up like a burrito in your swaddling blankets and me in overbearing pain from the labor, your Great-Grandpa Chuck said- "This is the easiest part."

"This guy's smoking hasheesh," I thought. And now the idea isn't so crazy.

The hardest part is now. Realizing that you won't be this small forever and that those tiny toes won't be mine to bite anymore. It's all happening.

I look at the scar from the cut the doctors created to pull you into this world and I love it. It's a reminder of where you came from and that once you were so small. The tiny stranger I loved at first sight.

Thank you for that scar. Thank you for your courage and laughter and for making me manifest both. Thank you for hugging me tight around my neck, pressing your cheek to mine and smiling. Thank you for making me your mother. I have been filled with pride for the last year of my life, and pride I will feel forever.

Happy 1st Birthday! We love you more than you can fathom.

P.S.- Please stop growing so fast.

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