“To my last born,
You erupted into this world like a volcano. Unexpected but in waiting, your lungs on fire, telling your story long before words could be formed. You were a dream, a miracle, a moment I thought might never happen to me again.
It’s true, you are not the same as your sisters. Your story has been different, our journey incomparable. When I first knew you were there, I was already eight years into the experience of motherhood. There was no waiting on two blue lines of confirmation, because in an instant, I recognized you.
I worried less, the first trimester flew past so quickly and I didn’t always rush to my social feed to share your growth, from tiny poppy seed to flourishing lemon. I knew, but this time, the whole world didn’t need to. Before long, you were a pumpkin, and then you were here.
For almost nine months, time swept by with ease – never calling on the midwife for every ache, pain, and twinge. Your nursery, a last minute dash to completion. A full house move in those final weeks. At times, I wondered if this meant I loved you any less.
Instead, it was you who taught me a mother’s love truly comes with no restriction; that we simply love, then love, then love again. With you, I realized motherhood did feel different, but only ever because this time, it came with confidence. I spent less time doing things wrong, more often getting it right. I learned how it felt to enjoy the moments without hesitation, to relish in your zest for life. I was unafraid of every fall, every tumble, and every grazed knee.
You refilled my heart with a certain kind of magic. As your sisters sweep swiftly into those pre-teen years, you become the reason for homemade fairy cakes, bed time stories, and school nativity plays. Just when I thought the tooth fairy may never again grace my door, there you stand… a wide open smile of twenty perfect milk teeth just waiting for the right time to fall.
You are letters to Santa at the very moment I almost believed we’d sent the last ones. You are the reason I find myself smiling, as you rush to your friends at the school yard… a flurry of memories of doing this once before, also a sense of gratefulness I now get to do it once more.
You are so special. More than I have words for and more than you can ever know.
To my last born and my only son… You may have been last to find your way to my heart and arms, but my goodness, how much you were worth waiting for.”
This story was submitted to Love What Matters by Chelle Smith. Submit your own story here and be sure to subscribe to our free email newsletter for our best stories.
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