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Momma is very late in writing you this letter commemorating your 2nd birthday and entry into your 3rd year here with us. I know you likely won’t remember when you’re older, but Momma was sick with pregnancy of your first sibling. I had some grand, bit not over the top, plans for your birthday celebration. None of them happened. Now, even a couple months past your birthday and I still feel guilty about it.
Thanks to wonderful extended family, you had a celebration. It was a small and slightly unexpected party, but it happened. It was all for you, my first wonderful child!
Your grandparents and great grandmother and one of your cousins and her parents came to help you celebrate. I’m so thankful they did! It helps to lessen some of my guilt from that time.
Then, you had another party with your other grandmothers and older cousins.
This special day would have almost passed without any fanfare if it weren’t for your wonderful and thoughtful extended family. And that’s what I feel most guilty about. After all, you are worth celebrating! You’re worth celebrating every day.
You brighten my world. My life is more meaningful than it’s ever been, thanks to you. You teach me. We grow together. We explore together. And we struggle together. These are things I wouldn’t have without you.
You’ve certainly had an interesting first 2 years. But, one thing you’ll probably never understand until you have a child, is that Papa and I incorporated you so seamlessly into our lives. It’s like you’ve been with us always. And, I guess, in a way you have. You are a wanted child. Papa and I desired you way before we ever met you. You were loved from before conception.
And now that you have a sibling on the way, I can tell that somehow. In some magical way, you’ve learned to love and accept this sibling as though they’ve always been here with us too. It’s incredible really. Daily, I’m amazed at the love and devotion, awareness and inclusion, and joy and interest you demonstrate for your growing sibling.
I almost can’t remember a time without the both of you, despite your head start. But even more than that, I can’t imagine my life as full without you as it is now. I want to thank you, from the deepest part of my Momma heart. Thank you for always forgiving. Thank you for teaching and growing and learning. The grace and patience you give me is incredibly important and I thank you. Your kindness and unyielding love for me is incomparable to anything else in this world. You are a true blessing. And a delight.
We have our days. I have my days. You have your days. Somehow though, we always manage to get through it together. You’re so busy and involved in the day-to-day now, I sometimes can hardly catch my breath. I love it though. I’d take none of our struggles back, for all of our experiences together as a family are what makes us so strong.
I eagerly look forward to watching you play with your new sibling, once s/he arrives. Moving forward and savoring these last few months of just us three, I want. I want to show and tell you everything about life and the world and happiness and creating what’s right to you, but I know I’ll have to wait.
You’re learning every day, at your own pace, and I see this in the little things each day we spend together. I remember the days when you’d cry and cry, even if Papa was holding you, if I left the room for only a moment. There were days I couldn’t leave the house, even though you were crawling or walking and had toys. I remember the days when we’d sit and nurse, staring at one another. Now, you stand at the door waving goodbye, repeating “be right back”, smiling, and watching me pull out of the driveway and up the road. You also run off and play by yourself, coming back to check in only occasionally. Now, we look at one another as you close your eyes for a nap.
You’re becoming more and more independent every day. You are your own person. You always have been, now though, you’re seeing that too. I love that we’ve somehow instilled this truth in you, even if it makes me happy and sad at the same time. I’m happy that you are so strong, independent, and interested. I’m sad that the days of just lying quietly together, rocking you in my arms to sleep, or just needing me so much are largely gone.
It’s an interesting thing, being a parent. There are always times of joy and laughter, amazement and adoration, struggle and triumph. Yet things are constantly changing. Sometimes, it’s not until I really sit still do I realize that some things are gone, the season for them have passed. I do hope one day you’ll see and understand this, not just as an adult, but as my son.
I love you,