motherhood

An Open Letter To My Son…

Dear Son,

When I first learned of you, you instantly became my world. The idea that something could come from nothing, and that with love and precise detail you existed. One day you were just a mere thought, the next day you were breathed into existence with grace. What a concept.

Every day you grew, every ounce you gained and milestone met: I celebrated. I boasted when you graduated from “Embryo” to “Fetus”, as if it made a difference in the amount of love of I could have for you. I shed tears when you met 10 weeks, and I heard your fast, consistent heartbeat for that very first time. When you reached 20 weeks and we found out your sex, I wept: I wasn’t ready to raise a Man.

Dear Son,

When I learned that I was going to be a Mother to a little Boy, I was scared. More scared than I am of spiders, or how scared you might be of monsters underneath your bed. I wasn’t scared of you, but the fact that I didn’t know how to successfully teach you how to be a Man, or how to demonstrate to you how a Woman is to treat her Husband.

You see, I had this idea that my upbringing would reflect onto yours like a ray of light dancing off a mirror. That somehow, because I never experienced what a Father was supposed to act like that I couldn’t teach you how to be a Man. That because I didn’t know what a healthy marriage looked like, that I couldn’t meet that quota for you to hold onto and look up to.

Dear Son,

When I held you in my arms for that first time, I had never loved anyone on this planet more. The bond that you and I had in that moment is irreplaceable, and I instantly knew that although I didn’t know everything: I’d figure it out. At your most fragile time you taught me so much, and that is that I am enough.

This world didn’t give me a Son because you needed me. This world saw everything I’ve gone through in this life and decided that for the first time I needed to understand what it was like to fall in love with a Boy wholeheartedly, and be willing to do anything to protect Him. Yes, you needed me: But I needed you more.

Dear Son,

As you constantly grow and change every day, and learn new things: please don’t forget these times. I know that one day I won’t be your best friend, your cuddle buddy, your favorite. It’s meant to go that way, and although it’ll hurt, I know that everything happens for a reason.

Remember these times. Remember being so intertwined in my presence that my laughter is your medicine and my voice your lullaby. Remember only being able to sleep after cuddling with me, or being ever-so-willing to give me a kiss after only asking once. I know you won’t remember, but I will.

Dear Son,

When you go off to Middle School, and I’m no longer “cool”, I will still remember these times. When I mindlessly rattle off, “I love you!” in front of your first set of “guy friends” know I didn’t do it to embarrass you. When you get your first crush, and you hopefully tell me all about her, I hope that you subconsciously have fallen for her traits that have reminded you of me: how she belly laughs in the middle of class, or how she sin’t afraid to get dirt on her pants.

Dear Son,

When you bring home your first Girlfriend, I hope I’m able to love her as much as you do. It’ll be hard, considering I loved you first: But I will try. I will try to not hold her to every standard I’ve ever had, and realize that the only way you’ll ever learn is by getting your heart broken. I promise I will cry as hard as you do when that day comes, but until then I will continue to support anything you do.

Dear Son,

When you come home for Christmas break and tell your Father and I about this girl, and how you think she’s the one: I hope she is. I hope she’s everything you need in life plus more. I hope she pushes you, teaches you, and learns from you. I hope that she’s able to laugh at all the family jokes that aren’t that funny, and I hope that she’s able to be honest with you when she doesn’t like my cooking. I hope she pushes you to have deep conversations during your late morning breakfast, instead of only during your mid-night phone conversations. I hope she loves your flaws, and accepts them as they are: and teaches you how to do that, too.

Dear Son,

When you get your dream job, and your boss is absolute prick: know that I’m still proud of you. When you graduate with Honors, or less than: know that I’m still proud of you. When you crash your car in a stupid accident that you apologize one hundred times for: know that I still love you. When you lie to me about where you’re going this weekend, and have a few too many drinks: know that I’ll pick you up without any judgment if that means I get to keep my baby safe just one more time.

Dear Son,

Wherever the world takes you, however bad it beats you, breaks you, or burns you:

Please remember that I loved you first.

Photo By Alex Newton : Scott 1 week (2019)

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