The sound that changed my life.

Two years ago, at 8:26 in the morning I heard a sound that would forever change my life.  As I anxiously waited, scared and excited with C by my side, L.A. was lifted into this world and let out the angriest cry you could ever imagine.  That cry of anger was (and still is) the most beautiful sound I have ever heard.  It was the moment I became someone’s mother.

In the past two years, L.A. has taught me more about myself than I ever knew in the 27 prior years.  I have learned that I’m more patient than I ever thought I could be, I’ve learned that the exception to that is when I’m tired, and then I’m less patient than I ever wanted to be.  I’ve learned that though my voice may not be perfect, most things can be made lighter if I sing.  I never realized how much better my world could be when someone comes bounding towards me with arms wide open screaming “Mama!!”  I never knew how much two bright little eyes could be a window to someone’s world.

I’ve also learned so much about this little person that we first met two years ago.  L.A. has been feisty since the moment he was born, anyone who knows him knows that’s an understatement.  He has his own agenda, and he has never been afraid to let anyone know that.  Along the way though, he has also developed a silly sense of humor.  Lately he’s been trying to tell us knock knock jokes except they usually go like this: “Knock knock”  ”Who’s there?” “Dada”  ”Dada who?”  ::silence:: “Knock knock”  ”Who’s there?”  ”Gandma”  ”Grandma who?” ::silence::  ”Knock knock”  ”Who’s there?”  ”Bobo” “Bobo who?” ::silence::   and he continues down the list of people he loves, thinking each is more hilarious than the last.

While I was unsure if adding a baby to our family would seriously change the dynamic, L.A. never once skipped a beat.  He loves his brother, and has just recently started saying his name (over, and over, and over again) so proudly.  When he’s not being a total punk, he’s an amazing little helper and will do anything to make his brother laugh.

L.A. is an observer, just like his daddy.  He needs time to warm up to a new situation, and even if he’s seen you a hundred times, he still needs to take the first 20 minutes or so to get his bearings.  He soaks up the world like a sponge.

L.A., when you read this many years from now, I want you to know that the last two years of my life have been the best years of my life, and you are an incredibly integral part to that equation.  You have changed my life in ways that I knew you would, and ways that I never imagined would be possible.  I love you.  I’m far from perfect, but I try.  Sadly, you won’t remember these times, but I hope one day when you’re 17 and have gotten on my very.last.nerve, I never forget the way when you were a toddler that you would grab both sides of my face and squish our lips together in a forceful, sloppy little kiss.  I don’t want to forget how sweet your voice sounded when you say “Mama, way down” and pat your pillow as I get ready to read you bedtime stories.  I hope that you’ll know how much I love you, and that every night when I kiss you goodnight, and you whisper back to me “night night mama” my heart hurts because I’m so incredibly grateful to be your mother.  Happy Birthday little boy.  Don’t go growing up too fast.