Dear Miles,
I was walking to my job at the hospital recently, past the statue where people come to pray for their loved ones or for themselves, fresh flowers lay at its foot, petals and small notes tucked at its base. I thought about how most days I walk to my job, oblivious of the pain and suffering that most people are in while at the hospital. Hospitals are mostly for sick people. I have the joy and luck to have a job that is almost entirely happy. I help women grow their families, bring their first or their fifth baby into the world. You were born there, at the hospital where I work. On the very unit where I help women give birth.
I think about the room where we stayed after you were born. I think of our first few days often when I enter that room to see another patient, a new mom or a mom with a new babe. I think of early breastfeeding, the uncertainty that came with caring for a new life. Now, though, on your second birthday, it feels like the uncertainty has mostly gone. There are challenges, of course, as there will continue to be throughout your life. But we're at such a good place with you that it's hard to remember that degree of uncertainty.
You are bright eyed, curious and you have an insatiable appetite for exploring. You are kind. And at times, you are not kind. You are two. You are normal. We've seen you share so sweetly with a maturity beyond your years. And we've seen you steal and take, as every two year old does. You give kisses and the best arms-around-my-neck hugs. But you also find such joy in jumping straight on my torso to hear me say "Oomph!" You have so many words. So many. You love dinosaurs and trains and books and animals and friends. We hear that you want to go to Frankie's house many, many times a week. You don't stop moving, not until the lights are out and your body relaxes into the mattress.
I thought of you that day, walking past the statue, thinking of the people and their sick loved ones. I thought of losing you and it made me tear up, as it is now, writing this. Miles, Bubbub, I'm not sure I knew this before you. To have a love for someone so great that just the thought of losing you brings me to tears. Thank you for that. For that depth of love. You have made our lives fuller and happier and sweeter. You challenge us. To be good parents. To work hard at our lives. To do what's best for you and our family.
Even though you don't sit still much these days, my favorite moments are still the ones where you fold your body into mine, absentmindedly playing with my necklace or my hair, having a conversation about cars or fishes or trains.
Love,
Mama
