“You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you. For life goes not backward not tarries with yesterday. You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.” – Kahlil Gibran
You turned four months old on what was exactly one year since we found out about you! It was July 31st.
A whole year since we got home from our “we need to do Disney before we have kids” trip. A year since the Magic Kingdom cashier asked me if I was having a boy when I was buying a baby toy for your cousin and put this little idea in my head. A year since the inconclusive pregnancy test that caused your crazy mom more anxiety than the idea of actually being a parent. A year since your dad went to Walgreens at midnight to buy 2 tests (just in case it didn’t work again). A year since we saw the little digital pregnant and knew our lives would be different forever.
I’ve learned so much since that day.
I’ve learned that my body is more capable that I believed it could be, despite feeling sick for 4 months straight. I learned that 9 months without wine isn’t as bad as I thought it would be and that the cure for anything is a walk on the trails with your dad. I’ve learned to stop being so afraid. I’ve learned about growth spurts and sleep regressions. I’ve learned how to make you smile and laugh. I’ve learned that those are my favorite things.
But mostly I’ve learned that you are my miracle.
You’ve taught me that my greatest moments, the moments I learned about you and first met you, the moments when our family went from 2 to 3, were ones that I didn’t plan or control. They were moments that you’ve gifted to me. And I’m so thankful you decided to enter our lives when you did. I realize now that all the planning and timing could not have prepared me for how wonderful it is, being your mom. I’m thankful that you don’t eat on a perfectly timed schedule and that my labor didn’t go “according to plan.” Because everything you’ve given me has been better, and I don’t ever think I could have imagined someone as amazing as you.
You help me let go of control, you allow me to be spontaneous, and you remind me every single day that the greatest joys in life, like listening to your laughter and seeing your smiles, are the simplest ones. I hope to one day teach you half of what you’ve already taught me.