Letters to my son: Being Your Mom

Dear son,

I've been wanting to write this letter for a while, but I just haven't quite had the words.  I still don't, but they say that words start to flow when you start to write, so here I am.  I want to tell you how much I love being your mommy, and how much more full I am than I ever thought I could be.

It's not one story - that would be easy to describe or tell.  It's not even one sweet tender moment, because I'm pretty sure I could find words for that as well.  It's the days, in and out, with your good moments, and your scream-y ones, that make my heart fill and feel like it cannot hold any more, but still it grows and overflows even more each day.

You are a man on the move these days and from the moment that you sit up in your crib to the moment that I lay you down for the night, you never stop.  Over legs, under tables, climbing trash cans and strollers: by the end of the day, you have more bumps than I can count - but still you grin.  You are unfazed by each set-back, and your persevering little personality keeps trying again, and again, and again.  Grinning and pouting and crying and chortling, all the way.  Nothing melts me like your laugh.  Even your preciously adorable pouty lip doesn't come close.

The other night, you had a hard night.  You were startled awake around 10:30, and you screamed and cried and wouldn't go back to sleep in your crib until almost 1:15.  And so we held you, and rocked you, and walked with you, and you fell asleep on our chests, your breathing slowing and relaxing, and your body slumped against ours in total trust, arching and screaming the moment we tried to put you down.  And as frustrated as I was, and as tired as I was, and as much as I wanted you to go.to.bed, I kept thinking, "I get to be his mom.  And we get to be the ones who comfort him.  Who help him feel safe when he's scared."  We get to be the ones who sit with him on these long, dark nights and as well as bear witness to the happy, laughter-filled days.  We get to be the ones...  and baby, even though I was SO glad when you finally let Daddy put you down in your crib, and stayed asleep, and we could crawl into our own bed and fall asleep, lying down, I wouldn't trade the privilege of getting to be the one who gets to be your mom - your safe place, even in those long, dark nights - for anything.

As I write this, you are crawling around on the floor, under daddy's keyboard, under my chair, pulling books off the shelves, and in general leaving total chaos in your wake - but every so often, you come back over to me, pull up on my leg, and just grin, as if to say "still here, mom?"  I'm still here, baby.  And I'm not going anywhere.

I love your fearlessness, even when that causes heart failure as you launch yourself off couches, beds, and chairs.  I love your laughter when daddy tickles you or you find something totally random, funny.  I love your snuggles in those last few minutes before bed, those precious, rare moments when you curl up and snuggle in and are still.  I love how you grin when we brush your teeth, and how you impishly consider whether to obey or not when we tell you no.  I love your wild crazy hair, standing on end and going every which way.  I love hearing your voice, as you sing going up the stairs, or along with me when we're cooking in the kitchen.  And I love how you crawl/run to greet me when I come home from a long day at work.

I wear many hats, baby.  But being Daddy's wife, and your mom are two of the most precious to me. When I am with you both, I am home and fully me.

I love being your mom, and as long as I am alive, I will always be here.  Whether you're screaming and running away, or screaming and running towards;  whether you're smiling and laughing, or crying; whether you are being fiercely independent, or just needing reassurance that we're here; whether you despise us or delight in us; whether you need us, or are fine on your own; whether I understand you or struggle to; whether I'm tired and just need a break, or loving every moment of motherhood, I will be here, with love, hard or easy, as your mom.  Loving you regardless.  Listening.  Staying.  And grateful for the gift of being your mom, always.

Love,

Mommy