I found this letter I wrote to Edward and thought I would post it on here so that someday he would see it. It was good for me to read it today because I've been struggling with the challenge of a strong-willed 3 year old. I see that a lot of this is part of his spirit, and I want to embrace it and channel it to mold him into the greatest person he can be. What I don't want to do is squash it and make him feel bad about being the way he is because he is really, really great.
May 13, 2012
My Sweet Edward -
I’m writing you this Mother’s Day morning with one hand typing and one arm wrapped around your warm,sleeping little body. I know these days are numbered, that you won’t be 16 and sleeping on Mommy’s shoulder with your hand down my shirt (oh yes you did, I’m sure you’ve been teased enough about this by the time you’re old enough to read these letters). Last Mother’s Day, I sat around and pouted because I didn’t feel a big enough fuss was made (I was overtired and may have expected a parade and diamonds), and I realized that I wasted an entire day pouting and being upset rather than celebrating the single most wonderful thing to ever happen in my life. I vowed to never do that again, to never take for granted the blessing that I have in you, to cherish the miracle of being your mother. It is an honor and I am lucky.
You were a very wanted child. I dreamed about you for years before I was even pregnant with you. In one dream, I saw the little boy who’s now sleeping on my shoulder with his hot breath on my face, paci hanging out and hair all messed up. I remember waking up from these dreams blissfully happy and excited for the day I would get to meet you. I began having these dreams when I met your Dad and I believe it was just another of the many eerie signs from God that I had met my soulmate and that amazing, beautiful things will happen when we’re together. You are the most beautiful.
I remember the moment I met you. You were screaming, probably traumatized by being born and having to breathe air on your own, you looked mad. They handed you to me and the minute you heard my voice you stopped crying, looked into my eyes like, “hey, I know you” and I melted. It was all over, love at first sight. It was like God let me tip-toe into Heaven and take a peek. I had never laid eyes on anything more beautiful and wonderful. I will never forget that moment.
Now you are 19 months and even more amazing than the day you were born. You are smart as a whip. You love puzzles and books, dinosaurs and Mickey Mouse and cookies. You’ve been waking up very, very early demanding we read you a book (sometimes by hitting us in the head with said book). It drives us bananas, but we also love it. You know all of your animals and sounds, you have a funny little accent when you say words like “door” and “eyes” - doooaah & aaaahs, you have a slight lisp which I’m sure is due to the “paaaassss” (pacifier). You also curiously insist on a super intense and loud QUAAAACK for ducks, which always makes us laugh. You are kind of a little stinker. The other day you were feeding crackers to the dog and I yelled “no” from across the room. You ignored me and when you were finished, stood up and smiled, pointed at me and said, “NO.” I had to hide my laughter - something I find myself doing often. Today, we are going to Powell Gardens, and I can’t wait to watch you smell the flowers.
I’m so blessed to celebrate Mother’s Day with you. I hope I can be a great mother. It’s a daunting task, but I know it’s what I’m meant to do. I have so many dreams for you and I hope I am able to guide you and steer you toward your bliss. You have my love and heart simply by being you. Nothing you can do can ever make me love you less. You are truly a gift.
I love you,
Mom
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