I’m sitting here on your bed, watching your dad brush your teeth in the reflection of the window. All I can think of is how I sat here, five years ago, in a rocking chair holding you. You were drifting off to sleep. Your little head was going limp, and your mouth opened slightly. Your warm body against mine, and I couldn’t stop looking at your face in the moonlight. But you should know that I was also thinking how it seemed like the first year was going so slow. I was wondering when I wouldn’t have to get up and nurse you anymore.
In between the push and pull of being a new mom, I was thinking there was nothing but time and losing sleep.
But here we are. It’s been five years, and tomorrow, you’ll get on the bus as a Kindergartener. I haven’t cried about this until earlier today. I was getting out your lunch box and packing an extra outfit for your teacher to have in a Ziploc bag. Bam. I felt the lump in my throat, and like a tidal wave, all the emotion hit me. You and your dad had taken off today for some much needed time together, and your sister was napping. I was able to just let it all out, and I had a good cry.
There’s the usual “where has the time gone” and “my baby is going to be at school everyday.” Then, there’s the guilt, or should I say, the doubting of what I’ve done in the last five years. Did I mess up too badly? Is he going to be ready for this big step in his little life? Have I prepared him? Have I, could I, should I, would I? I’m really just as good as anyone else at doubting my capabilities as a mom. It’s really not normal if you don’t.
Either way, I know the truth. The truth is that I know my own heart, and so does God…because I pray A LOT and ask for help. I know the feelings I have after I’ve screwed up. I know the feelings I have when I look at you when you’re having fun, and how I long for time to stand still. I know the warmth that comes over me when I see you playing so sweetly with your sister. I know I want to be able to protect you forever; that I am having a hard time entering this phase of letting you go more.
So know this my sweet boy; you’ll always be my baby. I love you more than I could have ever comprehended love to be. The deepness, and the absence of conditions; the connection that can’t be put in words. You are my first, and you introduced me to motherhood. You introduced me to what it really means to succeed, and what it really means to fail. You forced me to dig deeper in myself, and face certain things that I needed to face. Yes, you; all 48 pounds and 48 inches of you now. All 6 pounds and 13 ounces of you at birth. You’re my hero, Sully.
From my heart,
Mommy
**If you’re a mom, and you’re feeling like you need a reset, contact me by using the form below to get started on one with me. I’m a certified health coach and graduated from The Institute for Integrative Nutrition. I specialize in thyroid/hormone health, and helping women speak up for their health. The two go hand in hand. You can find out more about my story here.
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