December 27, 2010 by Marj Hatzell
Eight Years ago today, you made your not-so-grand entrance to the world. You were due on your brother’s birthday and you just didn’t want to come out. Two weeks passed and it was Christmas Day and I was all, “OH NO YOU DI’INT” when they suggested I be induced that day. So on Boxing Day we went to see the midwives. And it still took twenty-six hours (and a major operation) to get you out of there. Thanks for that.
I know it sounds cliché, but it is hard to believe that you are an eight-year-old. You are so young in appearance and so small for your age. I still visualize you as the chunkiest baby on the planet, gaining a pound every week for a few months. Hard to believe you are the same child, you are in the 5th percentile for weight now!
It has been a long, uphill road with you but every step, every arduous task has been well worth it. You are the sunshine on a cloudy day. You are the person in my life that has changed me most completely. You have taught me how to really love my family and what it means to love unconditionally. You have taught me the patience I never imagined I could possess. You are truly a gift. And best of all, you have taught me to look for the silver lining on every cloud.
I know sometimes I am frustrated and cry because some days are so difficult. When I look back and think about how hard you have worked and how far you have come, I cry tears of joy. Right now, I am thinking about how much you have changed since starting at your new school a little over a year ago and how grateful I am to everyone there for making such a difference in your life. I think of where we were last year or even two years ago and there is a vast ocean between then and now. You are a different child, a happier child. And we are happier because we get to know you a little more each day. Every morning when you wake up and you look into my eyes and grin with that mischievous smile of yours I feel warm and happy and content. You have truly brought me joy.
Now, I’m going up to your bedroom to clean up the remnants of the cookies and candy you’ve been stealing for the past three days. Which doesn’t exactly bring me joy. And here I thought you were just quietly enjoying your new toys. Next time, Momma won’t be so naive and she’ll check on you BEFORE you crumble about a dozen cookies all over your bed because vacuuming with a herniated disc is a little tough. Thanks.