You were not what I wanted

There is something I want to tell you my sweet first born,

I wanted to have a baby.

After 8 months of trying, you were to be that baby.

I wanted an easy pregnancy.

You were compliant.

I wanted an easy baby.

You were not.

I wanted a baby that learned to sleep through the night quickly.

You were a slow learner.

I wanted a baby that wasn’t fussy, or colicky.

You were both.

So because of the fussiness, and sleeplessness,

some days I didn’t want you.

But you still wanted me.

Beckett Bday

Your birth story is not unlike so many others. There were nerves, and tears, and pain; and then you. Gray, wrinkly, and wide-eyed.

You were also busy. Busy with a task that you were unaware of.

The parents that were holding you, and kissing you, and staring in awe at your beautiful face were married to fast.

We were drunk in love, so we thought, but after the butterflies disappeared we realized that love was absent and attraction had fooled us. For two years we fought, pushed each other’s limits, stood our ground, and stubbornly rooted ourselves in selfishness. We also stubbornly decided to keep our problems between the two of us, prideful of sharing our weakness to the people we loved.

We were a mess.

And stubbornly, and selfishly, in that mess; I wanted a baby.

And stubbornly, and selfishly, I wanted your dad to love me, and I wanted to love him.

Gray, wrinkly and wide-eyed, you changed everything.

In the moment you were born something ignited inside of your father. I was no longer just his wife, but also your mother. And our life was no longer about the two of us, but about the three of us.

Something ignited inside of me.

In the moment you were born, you gave life to a dying marriage. More importantly, you magnified the selfishness in our hearts.

Love was absent, but it was found in your first cries and first glances.

Every night you wouldn’t sleep, your father was there. Every colicky moment and exhausting day, your father was there. When I would cry because the sun was setting and another night of fighting for sleep was creeping in, your father was there.

He never left on the hard days, he never gave up; he rocked you and held you and sang to you and walked the neighborhood with you. He loved you. He loved  loves us.

You were not the baby I wanted. You were the baby I needed.

You were the baby we needed.

And now, six years later, you are the six year old that I wanted. And needed.

Six years later you still bring us together.

You greet me in the morning with a smile and hug. You light up when your dad walks in a room. You are nice to your brothers even when I give you permission to punch them.

And even though your delivery was normal, your short life has been wild.

You transition so effortlessly, always checking in on your parents, always praying for your family, always ready for the next adventure.

I am so thankful you challenged me as a baby. Our hard days prepared me for what was coming-your brothers.

We will celebrate your birth, and your life, every September, but this momma heart celebrates you every day.

We are still a mess.  But as a family, we are working it out. Together.

I love you.

Thank you for your busy first day of life.

-Momma

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