To My Son, on his birthday

Today, you turn twelve. I really don’t know how that happened. One moment, you were little and depending on me for everything, and the next, you’re almost as tall as I am and in middle school.

I can still vividly remember the day you were born. I was so scared. I had no clue how to be a mother. How would I do this? It was overwhelming. Then they put you in my arms, and everything shifted.

I can remember how small you felt, how you smelled, how you stared at me with those big eyes. Oh, the fear was still there, and I still didn’t know what I was doing. The love that filled me, though, was stronger than that fear. It still is. And, yes, I still have moments of fear as a parent. I don’t think they’ll ever go away, but when I see the young man you are becoming, the fear lessens.

When I have a bad day, you’re the first one who notices—even when I’m trying to hide it—and asks if you can do something to help. You have no clue what a blessing that is to me. Your caring spirit is a gift to all who know you. Even though your sisters and brother annoy you to no end, you are the first one to stick up for them or comfort them. And they will remember and appreciate that. Even if they don’t show that appreciation now.

No matter what is going on, you never lose your sense of humor and you never let anything get in the way of your goals. When I see you working hard on a school assignment, helping someone out, or just goofing around, the love and pride I feel just overwhelms—in a good way.

I hope all your birthday wishes come true. Have a wonderful day and enjoy each moment—you deserve it!

Thank you for being my son. Thank you for every moment of the last twelve years. When I wonder if I’ve made any difference in this chaotic world, all I have to do is look at you and know I did.

Happy birthday. I love you.

Mom.