Upon Your 2nd Birthday... {A Letter to My Son}


You came hard and fast and all at once.

My labor started and stopped and started and stopped for two weeks. I was sleep deprived, swollen, and I clearly remember telling your tia, “Stick a fork in me. I. Am. Done.” And then one day I woke up with contractions that were strong enough to leave me unable to speak, though they came only every half hour to an hour. So I kept waiting. And cleaning. And waiting. {And napping.}

I got tired of waiting and decided to go for a walk. The contractions came 4 minutes apart and hard. I couldn’t walk or talk through them, and I just kept praying the neighbors wouldn’t decide that this was the moment to come outside and begin small talk with me (I do not believe those were my most glamorous moments). I got back from my walk ready to leave for the hospital... and nothing. The contractions stopped. So I walked again. And again the contractions came 4 minutes apart. And again when I got home, they stopped.

Frustrated and ready to have you in my arms, I left for the hospital anyways.

It’s a good thing we did.

The moment we arrived at the hospital, the contractions became regular. Before I got checked in, they were hard and long and only gave me 15 seconds to catch my breath before the next one started (and no time to even consider an epidural, thankyouverymuch.) Before they even had me set up in a room, I was yelling, “He’s coming! I gotta push!”

I never had a calm moment to collect myself. I had you while on my side just because I never had the chance to straighten out. And my legs? Goodness knows where they were, definitely not being held up. The doctors never did believe you could come so fast either, till they saw your head making its way for the world.

You came hard and fast. Head-strong and determined. Stubborn even.
And a little bit onery, for your very first act as a baby was “baptizing” your dad… right in his loving and ecstatic face. A boy! Yes, definitely a boy.

And we gave you the name that means beloved of the Most High God. To remind you, God gave you a heart-shaped mark upon your leg--His Love is with you wherever you go, however you go, Son. We gave you the namesake of Jedediah Smith: explorer, trailblazer, warrior.

And sometimes I wonder what we were thinking when we picked out such a strong name.

Because as much as I admire your curiosity and your determination, I want to tuck you in close. I want to hold you and keep you. Small and precious. I want to soak up your kisses and neck squeezes and freeze time. I admire the little boy that wants to climb, explore, find new paths in his red rubber boots, but couldn’t you just stay right here? I look off to the unknown future proud of all the possibility I see, and yet my heart aches just a bit.

Oh, that trying yet triumphant business we call motherhood. {sigh} As inadequate as the words seem, I am so blessed, thankful, proud to be your mom. And, oh, you are just my heart, Son. I love you.

I think of the words of every woman who comments in the grocery store about my young kids and her grown kids: Time goes by so fast.

Yes. So fast.

Already Two. No longer a baby. But always my baby.

So here’s me freezing time and encapsulating it for just a moment.

Here’s you. At Two.
  • You like trains and cars and anything you can make go “vroom.”
  • You like throwing things, occasionally at your sister.
  • When you want my attention, you pat my cheeks with your face right up to mine and sputter in machine gun fashion, “Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom. Mom…”
  • You love to read. Especially Doggies and Mr. Brown Can Moo. You love making the sounds. 
  • You know the sounds dogs, trains, cows and cats make… and if left to your opinion: everything else roars {loudly}.
  • You shorten almost all words to one syllable and then double that syllable: dog dog, yo-yo (yogurt), shop-shop (shopping)…
  • Your eyes, strong brows and cowlick make my momma-heart swoon.
  • You have this grunty, rough voice and love to make your voice go real deep, but when you are excited you totally squeal like a girl. (I know. I am sorry for putting this down. But it’s true. And it’s really cute. The perfect balance to your boy-man voice)
  • Your eyes sparkle mischief.
  • When you give hugs, you make the bear-hug "rrrrrr" sound effect. Heart. Melts. Everytime.
  • You would probably eat cereal for breakfast, lunch and dinner… and snack and dessert if I’d let you. Everytime I get cereal for you, you let your uncontained happiness spill out in a knee-bobbing, happy dance.
  • You are the very best mess-maker I have ever met. The speed at which you can take your yogurt from snack to wall-paint never ceases to amaze me (and catch me off guard. You’d think after wiping the dining room down for the 3rd time I’d have learned... A good 10 to 20 times later, no, I still haven't learned and neither have you.)
  • These are the days where your sister is your best friend. (And you are hers too.) Sometimes you melt my heart with the way you follow her around, imitate her, crawl up next to her and give her hugs and kisses when she's sad.

Happy Birthday, Jed.

By Grace,
Your Mom