It seems surreal that five years have passed since you entered this world. Since the moment I became a mother. You have grown before our eyes and looking back at your baby pictures it almost seems impossible that the little baby in them is you. I recognize you but at the same time I don’t. What I do see is the same bright, inquisitive eyes staring out at the world.
The road to motherhood was not a direct one for me. In fact, I did everything in my power to avoid going down that road for over 20 years. I decided at an early age that being a mother was not for me. It wasn’t because I didn’t like children because I did. It wasn’t because I didn’t think I’d be a good mother, because I knew I could be. It was because I feared that becoming a mother would mean I would lose my own identity.
What I didn’t know is that I would actually find it.
Being a mother to you has taught me patience and restraint. It has taught me the value of the little shared moments – snuggles, kisses and hugs. It has taught me that the needs of other people are more important than my own. It has taught me that there is always enough to share and in doing so I am not being deprived but am sharing in the mutual benefit of something valued.
Being a mother has reminded me that the most fun is always the spontaneous kind – especially the kind that finds us jumping in puddles in the middle of a rain storm. It has reminded me that nothing feels as good as a hug at the end of a really trying day. It has reminded me that there is a sense of euphoria in taking chances – even if those chances are climbing higher on the monkey bars than you did the day before.
Being a mother has shown me that as amazing as I thought your daddy was before, it was nothing compared to how much more I admire him as a father. It has shown me another side of him and without you and your brother, I would have never had the privilege of seeing. You have shown us a different side of our relationship – one that has challenged us and one that has allowed us to grow at the same time.
You have enriched our lives with laughter – oh how you make us laugh with your inherited “Hayne Humour” and you make us smile more than we ever did before. You amaze us every day with your out of the box thinking that allows you to take every day items and combine them into new engineering feats at such a young age. You make our heart melts in your role as a big brother that shows us every day how compassionate you are. Your brother is your best friend and you are fiercely proud of that fact.
You are so industrious for such a little guy. You’re always the first to want to help with chores and love helping your Poppy with all the barn chores at the farm when we visit. You love mowing the lawn beside daddy even if your little lawnmower doesn’t actually mow. You love to hold the dust pan when we sweep and wash the floor if something spills.
You are in tune with the emotions of others and countless times you have given me hugs or wiped away tears when I was having a bad day. You are still generous with your snuggles and give the best shoulder massages and back scratches. You will even sometimes put your arm behind my head in bed so I can put my head on your chest instead of the other way around. Your heart is big.
You have an unbelievable memory that stuns us every day with the amount of detail you can recall about seemingly irrelevant happenings from a year or more ago. You are the finder of all lost items because your memory seems to be photographic. You are inquisitive and forever wanting to know how things work.
When at the age of 35 I decided that I did want to become a mother I had no idea if that would happen or not but I’m so grateful it did. I have not regretted that decision even once.
Today I celebrate your birth but also the birth of another facet of myself – Mama – and I’m so lucky to be yours.