Ode to My Three Year Old Son |

Three years ago today I saw the face I had been dreaming about my entire life for the very first time.

Your sweet, perfect, angelic, beautiful face.

It was a hot Thursday in September and I could not wait to count your 10 little fingers and 10 little toes.

These days I often have to “count to three,” and you can count all the way up to 30.

I will never forget the first time I held you on my chest, which quickly went from you sitting on my lap, to sitting in a high chair, to jumping off off chairs.

I cherished the months when you were completely satisfied by mama’s milk….today you would love nothing more than living off of milkshakes.

Your little unswaddled legs kicking randomly turned into kicking a soccer ball all around my living room in the blink of an eye.

Today, after telling you I had happy tears the day you were born, you gave me a “happy kick.”

Three years ago today I stayed up all night just to watch you breathe. I learned very quickly that no matter what was going on, if I was holding you, you were happy. So I held you, and I held you. And I held you.

A friend of mine said, “people will tell you not to hold your baby too much or you’ll never be able to put him down. I say hold your baby all you want because soon enough he will say, ‘put me down mommy, I want to walk.'”

Three years later I know how true that is. Today you told me, “Mommy, now that I’m three, I can fly.”

Happy birthday son- even though there is almost no baby left in you, you will always be my baby.