Five years ago when the doctor placed you on my chest I was changed. You were born with brown eyes, like mine, which is rare. When you looked at me, you looked into me, and I fell hopelessly in love with you. I pray never to recover.
All my life I will remember the first time I was alone with you. Your father had left, the nurses were busy and our hospital room was very quiet. I lifted you out of your bassinet, swaddled up tight, and brought you into my lap on the hospital bed. With more joy than Christmas, I unwrapped you, layer by layer, to see what I had felt for months.
I took you in for the longest time. How could something, someone, so perfect, come from this world? There we sat, with the sun setting behind us, and I began to sing Somewhere Over the Rainbow to you, when you started making noise. But I knew better. I knew what the psalmist meant when he wrote, "from the lips of children and infants you have ordained praise." (Psalm 8:2) We have sung to each other ever since, my son.
You are everything I hoped you would be, smart, caring, funny and more. You are fiercely loyal, determined and my word do you have spunk. I love the way you love your brother, pick on your sister and yet are her first protector if someone else does. I love that you always say, "got me" when I blow you kisses, that you can "read" How Do Dinosaurs Say Goodnight to me, because you've memorized it and that without fail you make "the face" at the dinner table at least once.
I love that faith is easy for you... A few short weeks ago we were listening to a recorded service from our church in Minnesota when Pastor Jeff gave the altar call, saying if you want to accept Jesus Christ as your savior, raise your hand. From the rear view mirror I watched as your little hand reach up from your car seat as high as it would go. You repeated the prayer of salvation word for word as the tears rolled down my face. Jesus said let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these. (Matthew 19:14) I love that your faith has deepened my own.
When you were learning to speak I called you my pumpkin, you repeated it "my pumpy." I can hardly believe 5 years have come and gone, it seems you have always been with me. I remain grateful, in all the changes, sometimes nothing but Mama will do.
I don't know what I could have possibly done to deserve you, but the Bible tells me Sons are a heritage from the Lord, children are a reward from Him. (Psalm 127:3) I pray that you grow into a strong, loving, Godly man and that someday you have the privilege of hearing your son say your words back to you, "I love you soooooo much, you are so special to me."
Happy Birthday Pumpy.