Twelve short years ago, I became a mom a second time over. My heart swelled to new dimensions. How I thought I couldn’t love another child as I did my first is beyond me. A mother’s love is immeasurable, infinite.
Remembering as if it were yesterday, feeding him in the middle of the night, rocking in the red rocking chair, singing “Amazing Grace” or “America the Beautiful”. He fit in the crook of my arm, his face so sweet. Perfection.
He has grown in his few short twelve years to be one of the most kind, empathetic, sweet, intuitive people I know. Only a half of an inch shy of my height now, his hands larger than mine, his feet longer, and his smile greater. I look at him and think how lucky I am to be his mother.
Twelve just happens to be his hockey number. So this year, he is beyond ecstatic to reach this age. I, however, am requesting time to slow down. He no longer fits in the crook of my arm. In fact, when I hug him, my head fits in the crook of his neck. Yet, no matter how big, or how old he is, he will always fit inside my heart. Always.
Happy Birthday my sweet, sweet baby! I love you more! xo