you turned three this past weekend. it’s been busy the last month, with the arrival of your brother and our world multiplying in joy and chaos and all, and i have not been able to give writing much room so, your little love letter is late.
this said, little man, i have reflected upon your birth frequently this past month and what it meant to me, us, and life in general and you can rest assured that you occupy more room in my consciousness then is probably healthy.
moo, i am no longer able to say that the day of your birth was the happiest, or the best, day of my life (rumour has it siblings don’t like that) but i can still say it was the most significant. bringing in your life was so profound and so transformative that my timeline will forever be marked by this turning point day, or night, as it were: before motherhood and since.
in the moment you were real you gave me more than i ever could have asked for and, most treasured, you gave me the gift of you. i will never forget the drama of your signals to come, the travels in fiction like conditions to all that was unknown, the way you contorted by body into a primal being, the tenderness of your scalp as you made your exit, reaching to grasp the birth of you, or the feeling of your slippery and warm body on my exhausted chest. i will never take for granted your alerting cries, the opportunity we had to lock eyes within seconds of meeting, or what magic it was when you suckled at me for more life once yours had begun.
happiest of birthdays my love. i celebrate you, as every day, but even more than usual this month. watching you become your curious little self has been an honour and a privilege. i hope you think we are doing right by you.
adoringly, your mother.
mother your business 