Shoved to Them
From the moment I first learned of you, you were my special gift from my Heavenly Father. Just by being, you helped to soothe the aches in my heart and assure me that life carries on even when it takes unexpected turns. Your being taught me again to trust and know that good comes from tragedy and that that good can be better than you ever imagined it to be. Your being taught a group of teenagers about the humanity of developing babies and your own siblings to look at that flicker on an ultrasound screen and see the beating heart of their little brother, and to love you before they could even hold you.
Two years old already. That is so hard for me to believe. It feels as if I just saw your little red face for the first time yesterday. Small and loud, but already a Mama’s boy, snuggling in and sighing your contentment.
Your serious demeanor and quiet ways led those who didn’t know you well to think you were, in the words of your grandmother “sober as a judge.” We knew that a boy who doesn’t smile himself can still be the funniest guy in the room.
As the youngest of a big family, there are always people ready to stand up for you and protect you. You’ve never wanted that, preferring instead to meet the world on your own terms and stare it down yourself.
My sweet independent boy who used to love his Mommy the best, but now the whole of the world disappears the moment your Daddy walks through the front door. No more the Mama’s boy, now your Dad’s little buddy. 
Not my baby any longer, but now officially a big kid. My heart melted a bit this morning as you walked down the stairs holding not my hand, but the railing. Growing and changing and learning every moment of every day. Don’t grow up too fast, my son. Take a moment and slow down, curl up in my lap and still be my baby every now and again. You may be ready to be a big guy, but I’m not sure I am ready for it.
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