Letters to my sons: on sunrises, beauty, and awe

Dear sons,

It's 7:24am on a Friday morning*.  The child who woke me up when the clock still started with a 5 has already gone done for his first nap of the day.  The other one of you has yet to begin to stir.   It's a cool crisp morning, and the nip in the air makes the sunrise seem so much more beautiful as the first few warm rays creep over the clouds left over from yesterday's rain storms.  Warm coffee in hand, curled up with a blanket - I am sleepy and bleary-eyed, but content.

I remember another morning - now seems ages ago - my freshman year in college when we got up early to drive down to the beach to watch the sun rise.  It was magical, and beautiful, and we did it every year I was in college - but that first time was something special.  It was the first time I had ever intentionally watched the sunrise.  Growing up on a farm, I was often up before the sun rose - but I don't remember ever taking the time to notice it.  And so when I saw it - really saw it, for the first time - it took my breath away.  The first light barely visible over the horizon, the gradually lightening of the sky, and then those first rays which creep out as you watch.  And then all of a sudden, in a sort of symphony for your eyes, the sky crescendos as sun rises into view and brings everything else around it into light.   It is one of the most beautiful harmonies of the earth.

This morning's sunrise wasn't quite that dramatic for me - but it hearkened me back to that day and made me smile with the sweetness of it.

Here's the thing though - the sun rises every day.  And, as it is presently, often I am up before it rises, thanks to you two sweet little alarm clocks.  But I rarely am wowed by it, and honestly, very rarely even pay attention to it.  But still it rises.   It has become simply a backdrop to our busy day-to-days.

So where, pray tell, is your sleep-deprived, bleary-eyed mama going with this?  I promise, I have a point and here it is:  I don't ever want to become so used to the beautiful that it becomes the mundane, simply a backdrop to our busy days.  And since you are both parts of my life that easily can seem routine and regular, I want to take a minute to treasure you both and tell you how beautiful to me you are.

E, when you were first born, we waited for almost 24 hours before you gave us your first good ol' healthy pee.  I remember the waiting to make sure that all of your piping was working the way it was intended to - and the relief when it did, even though there was no reason for concern.  As a result, I get to change 6-7 wet diapers every day.  This is my mundane, day-to-day, but it is also evidence of the good and beautiful way that your body works exactly as it is designed to. All of the intricacy of blood vessels, bones, intestines, ligaments, and tissues - woven together to enable you to grow and eat and learn and play.  It's amazing. You, son, are beautifully and wonderfully made.

S, one day when you were about 2 months old, your daddy realized that he had never checked to make sure you had all your fingers and toes, and a bit sheepishly counted them then.  Sure enough, you have ten beautiful fingers and ten strong toes, and you use them every day to poke, prod, pull, and push mommy.  And to request every little thing that you want, sometimes driving your mommy up a wall.  But son, it is nothing short of miraculous, the way that you are made - the way that each part of your body is there and works exactly as it was made to.  You, son, are beautifully and wonderfully made.

The way that you cry - that your eyes produce tears, that your lungs work to enable you to breathe (and scream), the way that your little hearts beat in rhythm.  The way that your fingers can grasp my hand or pull my hair.  Your silliness and the ways your sense of humor is already developing. The ways that you both can already empathize and feel and emote.  How much you trust your daddy and me.  How love is an expression and emotion and feeling that exudes from you and in those giant bear hugs that you love to give.  And the depth of love, that I cannot even find words to express, that I have for you.

I am so so so grateful to be able to be your mommy.

I am in awe of many things - but there are very few things that amaze me as much as the fact that you were formed and made inside of my belly, that I got to carry you for 9 precious months, and the ways that you have grown since then from so tiny to so beautifully big.  I can't believe that you are ours.

You are both regular, every-day, parts of my life and there are oh so many mundane and regular things that I do to care for you every day, but there is absolutely nothing mundane or ordinary about you.  You are both fearfully and wonderfully made, and I know that full well.  And there is nothing that you can do or not do that will change that.

No matter how many times I have to change your diapers, wash your hands, feed you, pick you up, comfort you when you cry, or hold you as you drift to sleep in the middle of the night.  No matter how tired I am, or how much I grumble about the 5am wake-up calls, or yet another temper tantrum.  No matter how many aspects of day-in-day out motherhood I struggle with (I do and I will) or complain about (I do and I will) - no matter what.  In the midst of all of that, very real, very messy, and very true part of motherhood, no matter what, I want you to always know that you are beautiful to me.  That you are my first sunrise.  That when I look at you, I hear the harmonies that God sings over me.  I see the majesty of the symphony in how you were made.  I am in awe of the story that you get to live.  And I cannot wait to see how the rest of it unfolds.

I love you both, S and E, and I am honored that I get to be your mom every.single.day.

With all my love,
Mommy

*finished during naptime, as a certain toddler needed breakfast RIGHT NOW when he woke up!