Dearest Jack,
Happy Birthday, my darling! What a wonderful year we’ve had together. My, it’s gone by so fast. You are growing up so beautifully and so strong. Only five pounds separate you and your brother right now. Part of me feels like you’re growing too fast, but mostly everything just feels right. Strong, happy, healthy. It’s all a mother can ask.
You have been such a ray of light in our lives. Max made us a family, but you completed our family. We would not be whole without you. I’ve been trying all year to pinpoint the special quality you bring to our lives, but the only word I can come up with is: jack. You bring your own thing. It’s happiness: with your sweet giggle and baby spit jokes. It’s passion: with your dramatic cries when the slightest thing goes wrong. It’s love: the way you cling to me, follow your brother and clap for your daddy. But beyond all that there is something else, something I can only call jack. You are Jack and you feel like sunshine.
Sometimes I feel bad for you because not a moment of your life has been spent with you as your mama’s one and only baby. Max has always been there. In fact, we were home eating breakfast together six hours after you were born! On the other hand, Max is always there. He loves you so much and your bond as brothers has been strong from the start. You will never know life without your best friend. Max brings you your blankie and toy trucks when you cry. He talks about you all the time and tackles you with spontaneous hugs. I know you two will argue in the future, but I hope you always remember to take care of each other. Max is your buddy for life.
There will come a time when you won’t want to hang out with me all the time, but it sure wasn’t this year! You looooovvvve me. I mean, you really LLLLOOOOVVVEEEE me. I think Daddy is jealous. From the start we have had a very special bond. Two peas in a pod. The best sleep of my entire life was during the first few weeks of your life. I know that sounds opposite of convention, but it’s true. You would curl up in a ball and I would curl up around you. Being that close gave us both the peace we needed to slumber. You still want to be that close to me. You like to dive into me or a soft pillow nearby and snuggle your face while getting your back rubbed. You do this about 100 times a day. My little prince.
You can walk now, but you won’t. You’re so good at crawling that you turn your legs to jello when asked to stand on them, but you don’t fool me. I saw your first steps. Max is my witness. He was shouting, “Jack walk! Jack walk!” I guess you want a few more weeks as a baby. Fine, you can have them. You’re also talking. Of course, mama is your favorite word. Dada, ball, choo-choo and downround out your vocabulary. I think you’re saying a lot more words, but I haven’t heard them often enough to count. You can do lots of other tricks like pointing, clapping your hands, eating with a spoon, and (my favorite) waving your sippy cup in the air for cheers. You say, “Choo-choo,” when you wave your cup and you sound like a very worldly baby.
You have had many nicknames this year. The first was mouse, because you made the cutest squeaking sound when you were just a month old. Later you became puppy because you carried your blankie around in your mouth as you crawled. This summer you became turtle because you let the waves crash on top of you with no worries as crawled up the beach like a sea turtle laying her eggs. Daddy always called you Jack-a-roo. I like to call you by your first and middle name, Jackson Dominic, because I love your middle name. You were named after a Dominican friar we met while I was pregnant with you. He told us all about how much Saint Dominic respected mothers, so I thought it would be good luck for our future together. I was right.
You are a happy baby. You love birds, books, choo-choo trains, trucks, your orange chair, swimming, balls, dancing and us. If you do something that makes us laugh, you always repeat it. Speaking of swimming, you are excellent. In fact, you spend most of your bath time on your belly trying to swim. You didn’t flinch the first time we took you in the ocean. You just splashed away. You crawl right into pools and into water too deep for you without a care in the world. I credit this to your water birth, so you’re welcome.
I don’t know how to close this letter. I have so much to say, and yet I know: this is just the beginning. I love you so very much my darling boy. Happy birthday! I can’t wait to see what’s next….
Yours. Love,
Mama
P.S. Here’s a look back at a year you’ll never remember and I’ll never forget. XOXO
Leave a Reply