Letters to My Children: Part One

Dear Samuel,

Today you turn three and move from toddlerhood to being a preschooler. Although I know it’s a necessary part of growing up, I don’t relish the thought that in a few short months I’ll drop you off at nursery school and your journey into independence (and away from me) will begin.

Years before I became a mother, or even a wife, I dreamed of some day having a little boy with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. You fit that description to a T! You gave us hints to this impish personality even before you were born.

I remember one particular ultrasound picture in which you had quite the pout going. You carried that with you to the outside world and still use it with a lot of frequency (and varied results). It probably gets you your way more often then it should, but really, who could resist this face?

And then there was your birth, which really started to clue me in to the ride we were about to begin. You were due to be born by a scheduled c-section on a Friday morning. On Wednesday at my last doctor’s appointment, the visit ended with Dr. Benoit telling me as long as I didn’t have you that night, he would be the delivering doctor. I was anxious to have someone I knew and trusted performing such an important operation and I had no doubt you would arrive right on schedule. You, however, must have heard him and decided it would be fun to give mommy a little extra stress because that night (or I guess I should say the next morning) at 12:38 a.m, you, our second son, came into the world.

You haven’t had the easiest time in the three years you’ve been here, and I admit that I worry about you much more than I worry about Eli or Annelise. You seem to be the one in our family who continually ends up with the short end of the stick, health-wise: eczema, food and environmental allergies, cold after cold, possible color blindness. Even the black flies seem to target you each spring and summer!

Thankfully though your trials are minor compared to what many people go through, and I pray that instead of making you negative, bitter, and pessimistic, they make you stronger, more sympathetic to others, and with a greater resolve to beat whatever challenges you come up against. I will work to instill these values in you, but please forgive me for the moments when I will surely fail. As any mom will tell you, it’s not easy to see your child hurting, even if it’s just a runny nose causing the problem.

The happy, healthy moments far outweigh the bad ones and there are so many happy moments I can mention. I love how every morning when you wake up we have to make sure we have your stuffed animal and blanket (Donald and Key) before we go downstairs because they have to come with you. I love to listen to your sweet little voice when you say, “I wuv you”. I love how you kick and karate chop the imaginary bad guys and tell me that “bad guys are mean and go to jail!”. I love how you hold my hand when we cuddle at night. I love that you take your medicine without a bit of complaining. I love how you call our cat ‘Yebby’ instead of ‘Ebs’. I love that you truly believe my kisses can heal your boo-boos. I love how you think “poopy diaper” is the funniest thing you’ve ever heard. I love it when, every once in a while, you fall asleep in the recliner with your head resting on Eli’s shoulder. I love how you tilt your head, purse your lips, and start your sentence with, “You knooow…” when you have something important to tell me. I love that you want to be the one to pray before dinner every night. I love how you tease me by telling me, “Eli loves you. I love Daddy!”. I love love love your giggle.

I love all these things about you and so much more, but even if none of them were true, this would still remain stronger than all: I love you. Not for any of the things that you do, but simply for who you are. My baby boy and my big three year old boy.

Happy birthday sweet boy! May you always know how much you are loved.

Love, Mummy

 

Lauren Cormier

About Lauren Cormier

Lauren is a 30-something stay at home mom who doesn't have it all together and she's pretty sure you don't either. She hopes that by sharing her real life (not the glossy made-up version) she can encourage you to drop the act and get real. Lauren lives in Hermon with her husband and their three children.