You burst on the scene after days of waiting and hoping that something would happen soon.
I begged the midwife to just get it out and cried why is this taking so long, because after three babies, the fourth should be easy…right? Didn’t everyone tell me that?
But it wasn’t, and you weren’t.
Nothing about you was easy, but everything about you was worth it. Though at the time, I doubted and wondered and cried a lot. Has much changed since then?
I still doubt and wonder and cry. It’s part of being a mom.
You painted the garlic bread for me and made bread bears with me and were fascinated by bellybuttons; you would need bekkis each morning when you came down the stairs and need kiss each evening before being tucked into bed; you dissolved into giggles with me that day when the new mattress was delivered for my room and was twice as tall as the old one; you taught me that there were no formulas for parenting and that sometimes it was just plain humbling and hard.
You have grown into an amazing young man who continues to teach me things.
I will post those lessons in future years so as not to embarrass you further.
Except I wish mini marshmallows worked for geometry problems like they did for blends.
I love you, Son.