I’ve started this letter to you half a dozen times already. Each time deleting what I've written and trying again. I'm not sure if what I want to say can really be expressed...maybe it's something that can only be felt. I love words, but they have their limitations when it comes to the best things in life.
Exactly one year ago today I woke up and just knew it would be your birthday in the way only a momma can know. I wasn't even in labor yet, but I called your Lolli and asked her to plan on taking your brothers that night. That's how positive I was. Later that afternoon I laid down for a nap while your Daddy got your three brothers fed and ready for their sleepover. 30 minutes later, my water broke. (side note: your Dad covered my side of the bed with beach towels at the end of every pregnancy. And I'd roll my eyes and say "what are the actual chances my water will break in bed?!" his diligence finally paid off!)
I laid there for a minute in shock. My heart beating wildly as I thought of all the things I needed to do. No matter how prepared you are for a baby's arrival, there's always a feeling of panic when the time comes. My mind raced: I wanted to take a shower and make sure the fish was fed and put away the clean laundry. But labor intensified quickly and I knew I needed to get to the hospital immediately. One of the last things I clearly remember is Max saying "You're going to do great, Mom, I just know it." as I tried to conceal how much pain I was in.
At the hospital, you came rushing in like a bull. My fourth labor was supposed to be easier than the others. But yours was by far the most physical and emotional and humbling. Giving birth to you felt like a battle in many ways. I fought against myself and for myself. Against you and for you. Four hours to the minute from my water breaking, you painfully, and yet so purely, made your way into the world. We both found peace the moment you were laid down on my skin.
And each day since then I have fallen, or better yet, risen more deeply in love with you.
This is our anniversary, Milo Byron.
I never want to forget:
that sparkle in your eye,
your gentle spirit,
how you play with the curls around your ears when you're sleepy,
or how my heart feels when your little face smiles at me.
You are a deep well of joy, dear one.
Thank you for filling our world with so much light.
My whole heart,
Momma
Look how far you've come, love!
Exactly one year ago today I woke up and just knew it would be your birthday in the way only a momma can know. I wasn't even in labor yet, but I called your Lolli and asked her to plan on taking your brothers that night. That's how positive I was. Later that afternoon I laid down for a nap while your Daddy got your three brothers fed and ready for their sleepover. 30 minutes later, my water broke. (side note: your Dad covered my side of the bed with beach towels at the end of every pregnancy. And I'd roll my eyes and say "what are the actual chances my water will break in bed?!" his diligence finally paid off!)
I laid there for a minute in shock. My heart beating wildly as I thought of all the things I needed to do. No matter how prepared you are for a baby's arrival, there's always a feeling of panic when the time comes. My mind raced: I wanted to take a shower and make sure the fish was fed and put away the clean laundry. But labor intensified quickly and I knew I needed to get to the hospital immediately. One of the last things I clearly remember is Max saying "You're going to do great, Mom, I just know it." as I tried to conceal how much pain I was in.
At the hospital, you came rushing in like a bull. My fourth labor was supposed to be easier than the others. But yours was by far the most physical and emotional and humbling. Giving birth to you felt like a battle in many ways. I fought against myself and for myself. Against you and for you. Four hours to the minute from my water breaking, you painfully, and yet so purely, made your way into the world. We both found peace the moment you were laid down on my skin.
And each day since then I have fallen, or better yet, risen more deeply in love with you.
This is our anniversary, Milo Byron.
I never want to forget:
that sparkle in your eye,
your gentle spirit,
how you play with the curls around your ears when you're sleepy,
or how my heart feels when your little face smiles at me.
You are a deep well of joy, dear one.
Thank you for filling our world with so much light.
Momma
Standing like a pro, still a bit timid with the steps.
Favorite food? Crayons. Definitely still crayons.
Look how far you've come, love!
 |
| 10 lbs 1oz, 21 inches |
I can't wait to watch you grow and thrive in the years to come.
Happy Golden Birthday, sweet thing.
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