Dear Son,
I cannot, for the life of me, believe that you are 5 years old. I guess it’s true that no matter how old you get, you will always still be that tiny little screaming infant we brought home from the hospital 5 years ago. I remember how incredulous I was, when the hospital released us, you me and dad and allowed us to take you home. Dad and I were so nervous and stressed out that we were being entrusted to keep you alive for the rest of your life! What a huge responsibility we felt, holding you in our arms. I mean, we have trouble even remembering to feed the cat, let alone another human being. After all, those were the days we’d happily eat a bowl of cereal for dinner and now we were solely responsible for the all encompassing well being of another person and an infant at that!
I remember being up with you at 2, 3, 4 am, because you didn't seem interested in sleeping when the rest of the world was asleep. I remember how your dad would come out into the living room to sit with me on the couch (even though he had to wake up for work at 6 am) and he would say he wished he knew how to do something that would actually be useful. I remember how worried I was about letting you sleep in the swing, so paranoid that you'd suffocate or fall out somehow (even though you were strapped in tight), that I slept on the floor next to your swing, with one hand on top of you to make sure you were still there and breathing. I recall how difficult you were (oh, did I say DIFFICULT?!) and how you did not sleep more than an hour or two at a time, around the clock for almost a year and a half, despite every sleep training book I could lay my hands on. I finally just gave up and tried my best to enjoy you. It was one of the best decisions I ever made.
You have always been so smart. So alert. So AWAKE. I remember you learning sign language before you could speak, and then having you speak so early and so well. Your dad and I still look at each other from time to time and mouth the word “lawyer” when you go on and on about your 'case'. I think you have a way with words, with talking, with relating to people, which you do so well. I hope you will remember your birthright gifts when you get older, so that you won’t spend years wandering around seeking your vocation the way I have. I hope you will know yourself better, more deeply at a younger age than I.
I hope that school is a happy place for you. That you thrive on the challenges that will come your way and not be pressured out by them. I hope that you feel safe and secure in your new school and that you like your teacher and your classmates; we tried very hard to step out in faith and trust God to guide our footsteps and choose well for you...a place that would love and appreciate you the way we try to.
Your dad and I want so much for you in this life, my dear little one. Mostly, we just want you to feel loved down to your toes and to feel a sense of contentment and joy knowing that you are loved for being you and not conditionally for what you do or how well you do it. And we hope, deep in our hearts, that you will grow up to be a man after God’s heart, a true believer and seeker of Jesus Christ, full of love for the Father, full of love and grace for others.
I am your mama and I love you more than you will ever know.
Love,
Mama
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