Dear Lucas...

Eight years ago today I had no idea you were on your way.

10 days before your due date and new to the baby game, I had attributed the day's laziness to having to carry around 75 extra pounds on my 21 year old person.

75 pounds I attributed to your baby body (all 7 pounds 6 ounces of it).

And a lot of orange juice. And ice cream. And McDonald's.

My water broke at 11pm on April 17th and you were here 12 hours later.

My first thought upon setting eyes on you...WHAT NOW?!?!?!

And then my second...I am devastatingly in love.

I can't remember what you sounded like. Or your smell. Or the weight of you in my arms.

Those are details that slipped away when I wasn't looking. Memories that evaporated as you grew and grew. Moments I lost as we made new ones.

I don't remember either of us looking like this.

What I have now is your sleepy-eyed smile this morning. The sight of you sitting up in your bed, book in hand, silently lost in the world of Big Nate while I help your little brother with his pajamas.

I have a pre-pre-teen who has a little 'tude but still finds his way to my bed in the middle of the night.

I have the pleasure of knowing one of the kindest most resilient humans I've ever met.

Boundless energy.

Nimbleness of mind and fingers.


Pirate of my heart.

Someday I will tell you the story of how you saved my life. Of how when I met you, it was like I had already known you.

Our love story. You and me.

And you may or may not ever understand its magnitude for I am your mother after all. Prone to puddling at your feet from the sheer magnitude of how much I love you.

Someday you will find your tribe my love. I hope I'm in it.

But on the eve of your 8th birthday I say to you Lucas Andrew, my Lu, my Bub, my love note muse:

You are an amazing boy with a good heart.

Be gentle with yourself and with others.

Try and find joy in every day and have at least one friend who will make you laugh on the days when the joy is elusive.

You are loved.

Love, Mom