What no one told me

People told me many things about becoming a mother, but no one told me that every year, when my kid's birthday came around, I'd relive every single moment of his labor and delivery.

That I'd relive the excitement.
That I'd relive the nervousness.












That I'd relive the amazement.
That I'd relive the moment of sharing this all with my older child.







That I'd feel again the physical act of this creature inside of me, one with me, become his own separate person, yet still attached.


That I'd relive the intense, over powering emotion of ecstasy, of love, of pure joy as he came into this world.







No one ever told me that I'd laugh. And I'd cry. And I'd smile.
No one ever told me that I'd look into his eyes, big brown saucers they are, and see my own soul.

No one ever told me that I'd love my kids' father that much more with each passing birthday.

As my soon to be six year old has been reminding us every day for the past month, his birthday is nearly here. It's a celebration of him, of his life.

For me, it's my celebration of his birth, of the moment, after 38 weeks he grew inside of me, that he became himself.