Today I reached out for your tiny hand and you didn’t hold mine back. I know this is good. You still need me, but not like you used it. I know this is how it’s supposed to be with each passing year…you gaining independence with each Velcro shoe step. I know this should make me happy.
We’re a few weeks shy of your fourth birthday. FOUR. There is a lump in my throat imagining you crossing over from three to four. This one is hitting me. I’m not sure why.
They all said this would fly by. The women at the gym as I bundled you in coats after basketball, the nurses at the hospital, co-workers, friends, family. They all told me how fast this would go. I knew. But FOUR seems big. It seems like you’re a young man now.
Honey, I’m so proud of you. I’m proud of your sweet heart and the way you communicate your needs. I’m proud of the way you do things on your own now and that sense of satisfaction when you complete a task. I’m proud of your funny one liners. I’m proud of the way you squeeze your eyes closed so tight when a song with “beats” comes on. I’m proud of how gentle you are with babies and how much fun you have with the kids your age. I’m proud you’re kind and happy and smart and all the things I want for you.
I’m sorry if I’m weepy on your birthday. I’ll try to hide my tears. I’m sorry if I have to swallow this lump down in my throat for the next few weeks as I think about this tiny milestone. I’m sorry if I’m “That Mom.”
Truth is I never imagined you being our only child, but sweetheart if you are our ONLY child, I will be overwhelmingly proud to call myself your ONLY mom.
I guess deep down I know, it’s just one year closer to letting my ONLY YOU go.