Six years ago today…

December 1, 2008

Dear Zay,

It was six years ago today that you came into our lives, our second child, our firstborn son.  You have been an absolute joy.

Your entry into the world came amid a bit of turmoil between your father and I.  You see, I was so uncomfortable during the last few weeks of pregnancy I was praying you would come early.  Your father on the other hand, through some weird mathematical equation (I am not lying), determined you would be born on December 1 (a day after your due date).  And do you know, you were born at 12:30 am on December 1.  Had you not been so precious and so worth waiting for, I might still be mad he was right.

Motherhood has a way of making me feel like a colossal failure and the first 4 months of your life was no exception.  I look back at that time and I feel sick to my stomach.  Basically, you were starving.  I didn’t know it then, but for some unknown reason, I produce skim milk and not a lot of it.  You nursed nonstop but you were never satisfied.  You were born a healthy 7 lbs. 2 oz., but by the time you were 4 months old, you were completely off the charts (well below the 0th percentile) for weight.  I can hardly stand to look at pictures of you then because how could I not have noticed something was wrong?  What kind of mother would allow that to happen to her child?  It was such a slow process it was hardly perceptible, mixed in with the craziness of a cross-country move, assurance from every book/website/lactation consultant that EVERY mother thinks she’s not producing enough milk and the well-intentioned but ill-informed notion that breastmilk is ALWAYS best.

But thank God for His grace.  There are plenty of holes in my mothering; I am so grateful God compensates where I lack.  Once we figured out the problem, in a matter of months you went from looking like this:

to this:

Apparently all the trauma didn’t damage you too much.  You amaze me on a daily basis.  You are funny, with quick-witted humor that must have come from me.   You’re smart, which I’m also pretty sure came from me.  (Oh alright, you got that from your father.)  You are thoughtful and kind to your sister and you are very sweet to your little brothers…except when they touch your projects.  Then you have no qualms about pushing them forcefully.

You can entertain yourself indefinitely and you love to read.  When you squeal with delight at the sight of another bagful of library books, I cannot tell you how good that is for my motherly soul.  You love science and don’t like art.  In fact, when we went to an Impressionists art exhibit recently, you slumped onto a bench in front of Caillebotte’s gigantic and stunning Paris Street, Rainy Day and said glumly, “I’m not impressed.  Science is a lot more interesting.”

You are all about what you can see, touch and feel.  Yesterday you made a TV remote from a kit and have had no shortage of fun making it actually work with our TV and telling me exactly how the circuits, resistors and whatever-else-electronic is put together.  Your prized possessions are your microscope, your telescope and your newly-acquired binoculars.  There is never a time when I don’t see something in your hands whether it be your latest Happy Meal toy, the paper airplane you just made or the pasta from your dinner plate.

Speaking of dinner, I truly wonder if you’ll ever develop a taste for anything other than plain white rice, butter & jelly sandwiches, quesadillas and white bread.  Oh, and let’s not forget the sugar.  I don’t think you’ve ever met a sweet you didn’t like, especially whipped cream.  You regularly remind me of “grandma’s rule” that whenever you have whipped cream, you must have A LOT.  (Thanks grandma.)  But even if you don’t ever eat anything with color and your future wife curses me because of it, I’ll still keep you.

I love you,

Mom

Related posts:

1. So Proud
2. Juggling
3. Perspective
4. How They Think
5. Clueless

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