My boy turned four this summer.
Today I watched him write his name. He slowly, painstakingly
scratched out each letter, his tongue poking out in concentration. J…A…backwards
C…crooked K.
And I marveled.
This was the newborn who peered at me with squinty eyes, his little head bobbing as he stretched to see my face. “I’m your Momma,” I whispered when we were finally alone in that hospital room, convincing myself more than telling him. He blinked at me, his tiny brow furrowed. I was expecting to experience a spiritual moment in which we would instantly bond and choir of angels would chorus in unison, but instead I felt…nothing. This could be anybody’s baby. He doesn’t feel like mine. Who is this little stranger peering suspiciously at me?
And now he is four and he is writing.
Today I listened to him tell me all about preschool and how
he played pirates with his friends and sang a song about a cat who wore shoes
and ate a popcorn snack while wearing a silly hat and how it’s not ok to hit
people unless someone is trying to kill you.
And I laughed.
This was the baby who cried at night when he was supposed to
be sleeping and I cried too because I just didn’t know what to do. He cried
when other people spoke to him while we were out in public and I worried and
fretted because I thought he was an anti-social hermit baby. Sometimes he cried
during the day no matter the amount of rocking or patting or cajoling I would
do and I would yell, “Just tell me what you want!!!”
And now he is four and he is communicating. And he is so funny.
Today I watched him run. He started at the top of the
driveway and raced to the bottom, head down, fists clenched, feet flying. He
ran like his daddy runs: with strength and a purpose. “How fast did I go,
Mommy?” he asked, circling around me to take another pass.
And I couldn’t answer for the knot starting to form in my
throat.
This was the toddler who, on this very driveway, brought me little autumnal gifts as I sat soaking in the last warmth of summer. “Mama!” he declared as he proudly presented me with a large yellow maple leaf. Next, he ambled over with a smooth round walnut. My pile of presents grew and my heart swelled as I watched my little blonde boy examine the dirt for the perfect specimen to bring his mother.
And now he is four and he is running.
His chubby cheeks have been replaced by a mischievous little
boy grin. He is long and lean and surefooted. He pours his own drinks, puts on
his own clothes and writes his own name.
Tonight, as I was tucking him in, I discovered something in his drawer of “special
treasures.” It was a love note I had quickly scribbled on a napkin and stuck in
his lunch box one morning, almost as an afterthought. “I didn’t use it,
Mommy, cause I didn’t want it to get dirty. I'm keeping it forever.”
The little stranger that made me a mother has grown into a
boy I love more than life itself.
I miss the baby that is no more and I cannot wait to watch
the man he becomes, but today, I am holding tight to four.
My boy is four.
This is lovely. Thanks for sharing!
ReplyDeleteThis is absolutely beautiful! Happy belated 4th birthday to your little boy! This totally made me cry, my baby girl will be four this month and your post just made it so real for me. My once tiny, helpless baby girl is now a smart, thriving and so loving "almost-4-year-old". *tears* :)
ReplyDeleteThank you for sharing!!
It is so bittersweet to watch them grow! Happy birthday to your little one as well! ~A
DeleteThis made me cry, my son just turned four, and life can be so busy, you have to take moments to remind yourself that while they are getting bigger they are still small and doing amazing new things each day we should stop and marvel at. Thanks for writing!
ReplyDelete