My dear son,
I remember that moment like it was yesterday. You were still in the NICU, but we had just gotten the news that you were going to be discharged earlier than expected. Mommy had not yet finished your nursery, so she found herself standing in a long line at IKEA that morning before heading to the hospital.
Behind me was a family with two little boys, probably about six and eight-years-old. They were running in and around the bins of extra stuff IKEA tries to entice you to buy while you’re checking out, making a huge, fun mess of things. Without even turning around I knew that their tired mommy was giving them the “you-better-stop-this-right-now” look.
As I watched their little mischievous antics, I found myself asking the same question I had been asking on repeat since you were born – “When will Josiah be big enough to run around and play like that?”
At the Baby Gap store, it was, “When will Josiah be big enough to wear newborn-sized clothes?” At Costco, it was, “When will Josiah be big enough to be in size one diapers?” You get the idea.
Right then, I heard the two older women in the line next to us comment on how cute the little boys were and how it seemed like yesterday their own children were that age.
“My gosh, I was so tired during those years, it all just seems like a blur.”
“I know, I remember always thinking, ‘Not another diaper…when will these kids finally be potty-trained? When will they be old enough to make their own breakfast?’ But it all just flew by like that.”
“I know, right? I spent so much time thinking about ‘one day this…’ and ‘one day that…’ Now I realize how precious THAT day was…”
Perhaps it was the postpartum hormones raging, but I found myself facing the IKEA check-out lady with tears running down my face.
I took it as a whisper from the Lord that day. Yes, I would inevitably think “one day” thoughts in the future. But I wanted to do my best to treasure this day, each day with you.
Well, the newborn-sized clothes have come and long gone. So have the size one diapers. All the things I thought would take forever to happen while staring down at your little frame in the incubator have already come to pass.
As our first Mother’s Day together was fast approaching, I found myself thinking, “When will Josiah be old enough to say, ‘I love you mommy. Happy Mother’s Day!’? When will Josiah make me one of those sloppy, paint-dripping hand-print cards? When will Josiah be old enough to actually pick out a Mother’s Day gift for me?”
Meanwhile, we spent today strapped to either the nursing glider, the changing table, or your crib as all you wanted to do was nurse, nurse, nurse, poop, nurse, pee so much you leaked through your clothes, cry, cry, cry because you wanted to nurse, nurse, nurse, sleep?, psych!, nurse, nurse, nurse.
But then I remembered the “one day” lesson. And I took this grainy picture of us.
It may not seem like much, but one day I will miss the way you always crossed your ankles whenever you nursed. One day I will forget how chunky your thighs were. One day I will miss the feeling of your little head tucked into the nape of my neck after you got milk drunk. 🙂
One day I won’t be the person you spend the majority of your day with. One day this will all be over and I will long for that day…what is now this day.
So, my sweet son, I want to tell you that today was the very best day ever. This first Mother’s Day weekend is one I will always treasure.
Thank you for making me a mom, Josiah. I’m so honored to be yours.