I was scared. Scared to grow our family. Scared I couldn’t handle loving another baby as much as I love your sister. Scared I wouldn’t be able to balance another child. Scared your sister would feel like she was being replaced. Scared I wouldn’t have enough of me to split between two babies. Scared I would fail constantly across all aspects of being a mother, wife and everything else that is constantly pulling at me. So many mothers before me told me I would be amazed at how much the heart can expand to hold love for every child God blesses you with. Wow, were they right.
When the nurses set you in my arms, after your father held you first, as I was trying not to become sick from all the chemicals pumped into my body during our c-section, I never wanted to let go of you. I don’t think I did until we left the hospital and I think I’ve held you more than I have not the last 12 months. I still get a love endorphin buzz every time you nuzzle in under my chin with your soft, fuzzy head. You fit perfectly on my hip and perfectly into our family. You have brought the most beautiful balance to our craziness.
The past year has been a blur of sleep deprived ups and downs, with way more highs than lows. Sometimes the moments in the trenches can seem to outshine the moments that leave beautiful imprints on your heart forever. The moments where both you and your sister are simultaneously inconsolable can immediately send me into a mental spiral of, “Why did I do this?” A sloppy open mouth kiss from you and a song sung by Sissy quickly erases the negative thoughts, doubts and struggles that race through my head in our tough moments. It’s the antidote I need to quiet the voices that say, “You are not good enough to be their mom.”
How blessed am I to be able to watch you grow? To observe all your idiosyncrasies as you mature and develop into your own personality. To watch you fall in love with the world and people around you. Daily I am astonished with how much I can love another person. I love how you fart when you cough. I love the way you drag your toys around with you when you crawl and explore the house in your own little world of adventure. You never cease to make me laugh, when you know you are about to do something naughty and look back with a double dimple grin to see if I am watching.
I’ve read that mother’s have a special bond with their sons (I could also argue this is true with the bond I have with your sister). There is a look you give me though when we lock eyes, it screams, pure love. I pray you feel that adoration pouring right back into your heart. When your little hands cling to my shoulders and your head fits in under my chin, my heart simultaneously melts and explodes. I know these moments will start to become fewer and fewer as you are crawling your way out of your baby stage. I wish I could just bottle them up to return to when you and your sister are teenagers.
It feels like yesterday I was anxiously waiting to hold you in my arms. Somehow an entire year has passed already and you’ve gone from fitting snuggly into the crook of my arm to overtaking both my arms and lap when I hold you. I thought time went fast after your sister was born, but since the addition of you, the days have gone by in what feel like seconds. I blinked and your sister turned into a beautiful little girl and you turned into the cutest toddler. I’m almost afraid to blink again, although I know when I open my eyes I will be blessed with a beautiful sight before me.
Sometimes Adaline will ask me, “Why are you our mommy?” I always tell her it is because God thought I was the best one to raise you two. Although this is true, I hope you learn I’m human and Mommy’s and Daddy’s struggle too. We don’t always know or respond how we are supposed to. We will cherish you until our last day and try endlessly to guide and mold you into the God loving person you were created to be.
“Sons are indeed a heritage from the Lord, offspring, a reward.” Psalm 127:3