Dear baby boy.

Yesterday was Mother's Day. It was our first - yours and mine - which should have given the day some gravity, some significance. But it was just another day. One marked by celebration over breakfast in bed and sunshine, but still another day waiting on the miracle of you. 

I've heard a lot of well-intentioned advice over the last few months. So many scripts for what motherhood should be and what it's been to many wise, lovely women. I've lost sleep over future boundaries between career and mothering, taking care of myself and taking care of you, shaping new dreams and considering how those dreams may be shaped by you. I'm discovering that your childhood won't be defined by how much I've worried over these things. What you need is a mother who loves you fiercely, and beyond reason. 

Pumpkin-baby (that's the size they say you are now, silly enough), I hope you take ownership of the fact that love is so much bigger than fear. More often than not, I hope I model that for you. Fear is a destructive emotion - one that will put limits on your life if you let it. Love is just the opposite. Love is what gave us you. 

I don't know what we'll make of it yet, but I love you fiercely, boy who made me a mama. 

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