Reminisce

Dear Son,

Time is a funny thing. At this time last year, I was praying for your arrival. Those were truly the longest nine months of my life. Which is not to say that I wouldn't do it all over again ten-fold, but it was difficult, none the less. Some women take to pregnancy like running barefoot in a field of tulips. I, on the other hand Son, felt more like I was trudging through a pit of mud. Don't mean to take away from the experience . . . it brought you to me - and that alone is worth any discomfort . . . and it wasn't all bad, but by this point in my pregnancy last year . . ., well, lets just leave it at I was more than ready for you to burst into the world!
Now look at you - nearly a year old. I try to calculate the days - replay them in my mind - look at photographs . . . watch home movies, but yet and still, I somehow cannot account how you have already been here an entire year. Seems I barely blinked, and suddenly I don't have a baby anymore. You're seeming more and more like a little boy every day.

Inquisitive
Thoughtful
Curious
Daring
Hilarious
Brave
Strong

And somehow . . . still my little man. I've tried with all I have to savor every moment - oh but at times, they just seem to fly by so very fast. I look at your receiving blankets - and wonder how it was I ever wrapped you in them - so small compared to you now.

Dear child . . . your voice in my ears, the soundtrack of my life.

What a beautiful song indeed.

I love you.