April Second Two Thousand Twelve a drop of water fell into our ocean and rippled across the surface, thus creating a tidal wave of emotions that would launch us into our role as parents.
Henry Thomas Cooper, born at 10:07, changing every thing we had ever known and arriving in a way I hope to never forget. The love I felt for you in those first moments broke me, creating a different version of myself. A far better version, covered in vulnerability and strength manifesting itself in compassion and loving care.
I've said it before but truly nothing can measure how fleeting life is like watching a child grow. There is something different about each day and I don't dare miss a second of it. At first it was the physical milestones and changes that took center stage. With each inch or pound gained I felt like I was losing you to the world; as if your growing equated automatic heartbreak. Not that I didn't want you to be strong and healthy but that it put you just one step further to not needing me, not being my little baby boy.
One year down.
Then came the emotional, mental, and verbal milestones. The part where we get to know you. The age of cute mispronunciations, first experiences with play, food, and friends as you explored your world.
Two years down.
Somewhere along the way T W O quickly became t w e n t y.
In many ways you are mature and wise beyond your years. It is so fun to have a conversation with you, to be able to see the world through your eyes. To have the innocence and raw sincerity of a child splashed onto our faces each day is one of the sweetest gifts I can imagine.
You've strengthened my faith, my love for the almighty. You question, and I must answer, and child like faith is born. I pray it doesn't die for you. E v e r. Even if it fades as you walk in a low valley of life I hope it stays alive in a very tangible way; that you'll reach in your pocket and pull it out letting our precious Father's love wash over you like a soaking summer rain.
You are infectious. Guaranteed to melt hearts at least (but not limited to) once a day.
You are creative. You would rather spend a day pretending, acting out, and imagining we are pirates than anything else. You love music. All of it. Any instrument you can get your hand on is like holding magic in your eyes. You're mesmerized by live performances of any kind.
Maybe you'll be a musician.
You are athletic. You can smack a golf ball with a pretty charismatic swing. You can dribble like an all star, and can swing your baseball bat like a pro. You haven't met a sport you don't like yet.
Maybe you'll be an athlete.
You are smart. Your Pops calls you a one and done. If your told once your pretty much guaranteed to remember it. Names of golfers, basketball players, words to songs, letter names, letter sounds. You are beginning to read CVC words. You can paint, draw, color in a beautiful way.
Maybe you'll be a doctor.
You love God. You can often be heard praising his holy name. Asking big questions you soak up any information your given. You teach us to appreciate, pray, and look at this life in a whole new way. You remind us to pray.
Maybe you'll be a missionary.
You are a great big brother. Without hesitation you stepped into the role of big brother in a way no one could have expected. You love your "Mala Mala" with all your heart. Your genuinely excited to see her each morning. You give unsolicited hugs, kisses, and pats multiple times a day. You are protective and caring as you stroke her arm or hold her hand without thought as we read a story together.
Maybe you'll be a compassionate, entertaining, smart, athlete who plays in the band and bakes food for the needy, heals the sick, and loves the unlovable.
You're going to be something.
Something special.
Because you already are my son. You've never been anything else.
I love you with all of my existence. I hope you know that. No matter what.
Three years.
I know we can't go back, and I wouldn't. So here's to watching you grow, learn, change, and conquer our hearts bring it on 3!
Love You Always,
Mommy
I've said it before but truly nothing can measure how fleeting life is like watching a child grow. There is something different about each day and I don't dare miss a second of it. At first it was the physical milestones and changes that took center stage. With each inch or pound gained I felt like I was losing you to the world; as if your growing equated automatic heartbreak. Not that I didn't want you to be strong and healthy but that it put you just one step further to not needing me, not being my little baby boy.
One year down.
Two years down.
Somewhere along the way T W O quickly became t w e n t y.
In many ways you are mature and wise beyond your years. It is so fun to have a conversation with you, to be able to see the world through your eyes. To have the innocence and raw sincerity of a child splashed onto our faces each day is one of the sweetest gifts I can imagine.
You've strengthened my faith, my love for the almighty. You question, and I must answer, and child like faith is born. I pray it doesn't die for you. E v e r. Even if it fades as you walk in a low valley of life I hope it stays alive in a very tangible way; that you'll reach in your pocket and pull it out letting our precious Father's love wash over you like a soaking summer rain.
You are creative. You would rather spend a day pretending, acting out, and imagining we are pirates than anything else. You love music. All of it. Any instrument you can get your hand on is like holding magic in your eyes. You're mesmerized by live performances of any kind.
Maybe you'll be a musician.
You are athletic. You can smack a golf ball with a pretty charismatic swing. You can dribble like an all star, and can swing your baseball bat like a pro. You haven't met a sport you don't like yet.
Maybe you'll be an athlete.
You are smart. Your Pops calls you a one and done. If your told once your pretty much guaranteed to remember it. Names of golfers, basketball players, words to songs, letter names, letter sounds. You are beginning to read CVC words. You can paint, draw, color in a beautiful way.
Maybe you'll be a doctor.
You love God. You can often be heard praising his holy name. Asking big questions you soak up any information your given. You teach us to appreciate, pray, and look at this life in a whole new way. You remind us to pray.
Maybe you'll be a missionary.
You are a great big brother. Without hesitation you stepped into the role of big brother in a way no one could have expected. You love your "Mala Mala" with all your heart. Your genuinely excited to see her each morning. You give unsolicited hugs, kisses, and pats multiple times a day. You are protective and caring as you stroke her arm or hold her hand without thought as we read a story together.
You're going to be something.
Something special.
Because you already are my son. You've never been anything else.
I love you with all of my existence. I hope you know that. No matter what.
Three years.
I know we can't go back, and I wouldn't. So here's to watching you grow, learn, change, and conquer our hearts bring it on 3!
Love You Always,
Mommy
No comments:
Post a Comment