Dear Miles

To the most awe-inspiring creation ever made, I don’t think anyone is able to understand the love I have for you; I don’t even think I fully understand it myself. It’s a kind of love I have never held in my heart for anyone else. It has never quite made sense to me how anyone could love someone so much, without having ever met them, but from the moment I first heard your little heart beating, mine was filled with an abundance of that exact kind of love.

In the small part of my life that we have gotten to spend together, we have been through so many ups and downs. Having the responsibility of carrying you inside my womb has been one of the scariest, most difficult things I have ever had to do, but it has also been the most rewarding blessing I could have ever received. I have spent almost every single day for months on end a crazy, miserable, nervous wreck questioning myself about how every move I make will affect you. Morning sickness, health problems for both you and me, emotions, debilitating stress, anxiety, depression, worry – we have been through it all – but no matter how hard it has been, I would not trade one single second of it because for every difficult or scary moment we faced together, I have experienced joy, happiness and love threefold.

Because of you, I have experienced the kind of love that makes me strive to be the absolute best mother, wife, student and person I am capable of being; the kind of love that the trivial things in my life seem non-existent, the kind of love that is able to pull me through the toughest times and reassure me that I do have a future, that we have a future. With every kick, flutter, movement, hiccup, ultrasound and heartbeat comes a glimpse of the end of the tunnel and reminds me of just how thankful I am for the time I have gotten to spend with you and for every second God decides to let us spend together on this earth. Soon, you will be at home, in my arms. But before then, I want to make a promise to you.

I promise to be there for you always. I promise to try model the kind of love, grace and care to you that God shows me, and will show you, every single day. I will not be the perfect parent, and I know I will make mistakes, but I promise to be the very best mother and role-model to you that I can be. I promise you I will be your parent first and foremost, but secondly, your best friend. I promise to always hold you close to my heart and to never forget these special times we have had together over the last eight months. I promise that nothing you do will ever change my love for you, but it will continue to grow each and every day.

For I loved you long before I met you.

LoveXLight

A letter to myself on the verge of motherhood

Dear 39 weeks, 5 days pregnant Me:

I see you there, rocking in your glider, clutching a pink plush teddy bear and letting the tears fall freely from your eyes as you sob. You are excited but terrified. You will be meeting your son any time now.

I wish that for a moment our psyches could connect through some cosmic wormhole. I would tell you that I am sitting here a year later, on the eve of our son’s first birthday and that even though you have heard it from a thousand other people, I know you’ll only believe me, when I say, you are going to be OK.

You are going to be more than OK. A year from now, you are going to look back on this day and the fear and anxiety about this life-altering event will be a nostalgic memory that you cherish.

First, let me tell you how unfathomable it is that a full year has passed, how surreal it feels that we have a little boy on the cusp of toddlerhood when I can still taste those fear-infused tears rolling down our cheeks.

A few days from now, you are going to leave the hospital with a 7-pound bundle of black hair, pink cheeks, the most profound gaze you’ve ever seen, and the most earth-shattering cry you’ll ever hear. I promise you, you’ll get through the newborn months with your body and mind (mostly) intact.

I’m not trying to gloss over the difficulty of caring for a newborn. And I’m not going to tell you about the challenges you have lying ahead of you. Instead, I want to tell you about the stupefying love and life-changing happiness that awaits you very, very shortly, that makes all those challenging nights worth it.

I can’t wait for you to see our son now, standing on his chunky, sturdy legs, babbling our name as he picks out toys from his basket and carries them off to explore the world around him. It’s a world that is becoming exponentially larger as he crawls with ferocity toward his limits. He is rapidly growing into a curious, tenacious little boy with wondrous eyes and infectious laughter.

Oh, Mama. You have loved and laughed and learned so much this past year. You both have.

You have watched him learn to roll over, stand up, crawl, grasp toys, throw toys, pull hair, talk nonsense, say your name (your heart won’t be as intact after that), eat solid food, feed himself, and then squeal with delight as he feeds the dogs. He just started walking, and he’s getting stronger and sturdier each day.

And as his sapphire eyes widen with excitement over acquiring these skills, your heart will break a little, because it is in his eyes that you will begin to see the young man he’ll become far sooner than we are ready.

It has been a big year for him. It has been a big year for you, too.

You will learn to swaddle, then nurse before putting him to bed. You’ll learn that the only thing that relieves his diaper rash is the red tube of Butt Paste. You’ll learn how to change a diaper while simultaneously scrolling your newsfeed, the immeasurable value of paper towels and Cheerios, how to get sweet potato stains out of nursing tanks, not to take your eye off him for a second when he’s in the tub, how to feed yourself with your left hand while feeding him with your right, how to disinfect diarrhea-covered bath toys, among many, many other things.

You will learn to let go of the idea of “should” and embrace what actually is, that life doesn’t have to look a certain way, and that Pinterest and BabyCenter are run by the devil.

You will learn to trust your own instincts, and just how instinctual you are.

You will learn that overwhelming love, complete exhaustion, utter heartache, sweet joy, crippling depression, and blind faith can all exist in the same moment.

You will learn that there is absolutely nothing that you won’t do for him.

You will walk through fire for him. You would have your broken, bruised and bleeding body swim through a sea of salted lemon juice and filled with man o’ wars to get to him.

There is no force on earth, nor in the heavens or hell, nor in the infinite galactic space above us, that is more powerful than a mother’s love. You will know that now. He has taught you.

He, our amazing little boy, has taught you so much—selflessness, sacrifice, compassion, personal strength, and that it’s OK to ask to for help.

He has taught you about who you were, who you are, and who you want to be.

But above all, he has taught you joy and love.

The absolute, pure happiness he has given us over the past year cannot be contained or defined by mere diction and syntax.

And the love. Oh, the love.

I had no idea that such a fierce love even existed.

The love that has flooded our life since she came into it is otherworldly. It is magical, primal, overpowering, overwhelming, all-consuming.

He has taught us what unbounded, inexhaustible love looks like.

It’s not always pretty. Sometimes it looks like a soft lullaby in a dark room wrapped in a warm blanket as winter winds howl outside. Sometimes it looks like tears and frustration from two people who just haven’t figured one another out yet. More often than not, it looks like soiled onesies, soiled carpets, soiled sheets, soiled hoodies, and soiled hair. Sometimes it looks like you, exhausted, swallowing your silent sobs so you can comfort his. Sometimes it looks like walking away for just a moment to collect a single, silent breath.

Sometimes it looks like four layers of dirt on a kitchen floor, and a great room covered in dog hair, and brightly colored toys strewn all over the house, and a little boy sitting on his mother’s lap, just enjoying one another’s company.

And I am so deeply, humbly grateful that we have the privilege of being his mother.

Oh Mama, I cannot wait for you to experience this crazy, exhausting, thrilling, overwhelming, amazing journey that is motherhood. Give that precious pregnant stomach one last caress for me.

Sincerely,

Future You, who is clutching our son’s newborn cap, now excited for and terrified of the coming toddler years