Dear Harrison,
Being your momma is my greatest joy, my greatest accomplishment, my greatest love in life.
At night when I kneel by your bed & you thank God for playing outside & yellow slides & tow trucks & oatmeal, my heart beats that I am so, so thankful for you.
Love always,
Momma
Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommas out there. May your day be filled with happiness & may there be pretty cake with buttercream roses on it.
Dear Harrison,
Today, you are two.
Today, you are wild & full of life & rambunctious, with this gleam in your eye that dares life to be bigger, more colorful, more wonderful. In the past year, you have grown from cautious steps to full runs, from little squeals to belly laughs, from bottles to cups & spoons & forks. Little friends to climb ladders with & kisses goodnight, prayers in the evening & saying “ooooh yeah!” whenever you find something you love. Like trains & school buses & Lightening McQueen.
Today, you woke up with footed jammies & bleary eyes, hugging a stuffed monkey & giraffe. I sang you songs in the car & we shared bagels for breakfast & tonight, you will smash cake all over your face while we laugh & snap pictures to freeze you in this wild moment of life. We will have bath time bubbles & bedtime stories & I will hold you close, marveling at how fast the past year & two years have flown, worrying that the next year will go too quickly for my little momma heart.
I wonder where you will reach & where you will climb in the coming years as you tell me to take a deep breath & plunge head-first into life with you. I watch you methodically piece together a puzzle or blocks & feel certain you will be an engineer. Then you protest a bath & coerce Daddy into one more wrestling match & I think for sure, you will be a lawyer or salesman or politician. Then you hug your momma & kiss her soundly & I know that you will be an amazing husband & father, so I think of the home you may raise with me on the fringe & my heart twists.
Some say that home is where your mom is. I hope that you always know me as home, & always know that you have a home. Whether it’s in four walls around a Christmas dinner or a simple “I love you” over the phone when you are grown & hurting, whether it has been five minutes or five years, you always have a home with me.
But today, you are still mine. & I am all yours.
I love you, every piece of you.
love,
Momma
Harrison, two years old.
You adore trucks, also known as “vroom vrooms.”
& raviolis.
Tucker is your best friend.
A stuffed monkey follows at a close second.
But nobody beats Daddy.
At not quite 24 lbs, you’re still in the light weight group of the 40th percentile.
But you make up for it in height by ranking in the 90th. You come by that honestly, kid.
A Southern boy, you love sweet tea & will eagerly sip from anyone’s glass. I know I should have some Momma Guilt over it, but it’s so darn cute.
I miss your curls.
Inquisitive & serious, you are purposeful in everything you do.
But sometimes I can tickle you into silliness.
You got your first shiner yesterday when you slipped on the porch stairs. Honestly, I’m shocked it took you this long because you dive into life head-first.
I love that about you.
Now I’ve got someone to hold, to keep me warm when life gets cold
A little sun to melt away the grey
It happened in the nick of time, unexpected, sweet surprise
With one hello, I’ll never be the same
oh, don’t you know I love you? I’ll never let go of you
In all of my dreams, you’re all I see
What can I do but love you?
~Joy Williams
Dear Harrison,
This entire week, I faced this day with apprehension. Your first birthday. A full year of Harrison. & felt a little drop of my stomach every time I thought about you officially graduating babyhood & moving into being a little boy. About a full year since I heard your sweet cry & a full year since I stared at your perfect pink face. Those first moments when I looked into your blue eyes & knew that we were about to start the greatest journey together.
& my sweet, sweet boy…what a journey it has been. It hasn’t been easy for us – but I think anything of true worth & understanding it’s value comes with a price. & I can say with certainty, Harrison, that I fully understand just how lucky we are to have each other. You saved me this year. Sometimes in little ways, like revealing to me that I want to be a better person & a greater role model for you. I laid down the snark, opened my heart, & explored the kind of mother & woman I want to be. Sometimes, quite literally you saved me & pulled me back from the edge. I am alive because of you.
You are the light in my life & everything that was promised. You are so incredibly smart & gifted & funny. Every morning, we sit down for breakfast together & I cut up banana & waffle & pour some (chocolate!) Cheerios onto your high chair. & ever so sweetly, you pick up a Cheerio & with a toothy grin, hold it out to me. & one day, when you are sixteen years old & storming up the stairs in anger, I will remember the days that sharing your Cheerios with me was the greatest joy in your heart.
Harrison, watching you love other people has become my proudest moment as a mother. When you wrap your arms around your Gram’s neck & squeal, my heart absolutely melts. The smile that lights up your face when Daddy walks in the room is tucked away in my heart & sometimes when I feel down, I close my eyes & picture those moments. Because what I want for you most is love. I want you to be loved, of course, but I also want you to love. I want you to know what it’s like to feel warmth all the way from your eyes to your tummy as you pull someone in for a hug, or pass a bowl of peas at the dinner table, or kiss your wife on the alter. I want you to know what it is like to put someone above your own sense of self, to only want the very best for them, because you love their simple existance.
Because, Harrison, that is how I love you.
& that is my greatest accomplishment as your mother.
Today, I think back on those first few moments in the hospital. I look back upon the year with conviction that we did the best we could, you & I. Not only did we survive, but we came out better than before. & most importantly, I celebrate your sweet life. Everything you have become to me & everything you will accomplish in life. You are perfect to me.
& I love you so perfectly.
love,
Momma
Harrison, one year.
Dear Harrison,
We have officially hit that day where Momma begins counting the days with a slow burn of dread in her belly as they number down to your first birthday. Maybe it’s preemptive & ridiculous, but I have begun looking back on your newborn photos with an ache in my heart – I hear your first innocent cries in my ears, remember the feel of you rooting on my cheek as I prepared a bottle. I catch myself yearning for the days that when newness enveloped our entire world & everything was a discovery between us. & then I remember that eleven months later, life is even sweeter with you as I watch you grow into your own person.
Harrison, I am so proud of you. When I look at you, I can hardly believe that this utter perfection came from me & I simply want to shout to the world that at 27 years old, I have already achieved my greatest accomplishment. I love to take you out & even though these days you wish to be on your own two feet walking, it fills my heart to hold your hand as you take steps. “Mine,” my heart exudes. “Mine!” as strangers turn to stare at you & your blonde curls. “Mine!” as I watch you race across the field in the park, eyes bright with wonder.
& in those ending moments of the day, when we rock slowly in the dusk, I softly whisper “Mine” into your ear as you snuggle in for your last bottle of the day. It’s twenty minutes that I crave each day, the only twenty minutes where you are still & calm & relaxed. Where we seem to melt seamlessly into each other until you grin up at me, full & content. I grin back at you & mirth erupts from both of us. Giggles that bubble over in the dim nursery, like a secret that we share.
“Mine!” as tears well into my eyes. After eleven hard, glorious, amazing months. “Mine,” your blue eyes seem to gaze back at me, steadfast & brave as ever.
I love you forever.
love,
Momma
Harrison, 11 months.
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