It's a place I don't go often, mostly because when I do think about it I become overwhelmed. How do I convey this love? I am not, generally speaking the mushy sort. Affectionate yes, but not one to gush... and how else can one write about their love for a child. There seems to be no other way.
Almost a year it has been since I first laid eyes on his face. And still I have not felt the desire to spew verse filled with rainbows and teddy bear hugs and fairy-tale-esque giggles... yet I need, for him, to at least attempt to put down in words that too-full feeling my heart gets when I witness his sun shattering smile. Too bright for this life.
As I looked forward into my future wondering, imagining, visualizing becoming a mother I always assumed I would love my children. That it would be magical. They would be gifted and beautiful and kind. Full of wonder. But I never could have dreamt up you. There is no way I could have ever been optimistic enough to hope for someone so downright joyful to come from someone like me. It is to this day beyond my comprehension how a smile could carry in it such deep, pure love.
I could never have conjured up the intense feeling of hope and comfort and euphoria I feel when you hug me. You're little arms wrapped around my shoulders without my placing them there for you. It was something that had to be experienced before it could be believed. Something tells me that this right now is a tiny glimpse into what heaven will be like. I had faith before you were born that our bond would be special and the love we shared would be indescribable, but though I felt truth in those beliefs and a warm fondness, even at times elation at it's prospect, nothing could have prepared me.
You grow daily before my eyes and the awe I feel in each new moment, each new revelation of yours is both inspiring and gut-wrenching. I don't want to keep you where you are, but in the very same breath I don't want to go past this moment. How can you improve on what it already so perfect. But alas, I know the answer to that question before it is even asked. I know in my heart that things will get immeasurably better and immeasurably worse and one cannot happen without the other. Your life is meant to be lived and cannot be captured in a single moment... which is why, my dear sweet boy I am unable to sit down most days and put words on page. It seems both too right and too wrong. The words they betray in that they cannot come close to the potential you have inside of yourself. If I capture one of your qualities even in part I neglect another in so doing and that is a tragedy.
But I will try. I will attempt to put at least some of what I feel into a (hopefully) legible format so that looking back into this time through my archives you will know that all along you were what was at the tip of fingers as I sat down to write. You were always sitting there waiting to come out but too big to comprehend and therefore impossible to form into one of my creations of word or otherwise as they all can never add up to you. You are my son but not my creation. Only God could be responsible for someone as amazing as you.
Any closing statement I could dream up would fail to tie up neatly all the things I mean to say but can't. In light of these confessions all else seems trite. So simply know that you are not your father or I, you are not simply a baby or a child, boy or in reading this later, a man... you are a masterpiece chosen by the Creator of the universe and you are so very, very loved.
All my love,