Wednesday, December 4, 2013

Miles and Miles...

This post is about a boy who had a birthday last month.

A birthday duly celebrated, and yet unrecognized on the family blog.

No longer, my dear, sweet 3rd born son.  We will recognize you today.  But then, there has not been a day in your 3 years that you have known me to be a Mommy who has it together.

Oh no, my sweet darling Miles, you are the one who pushed me straight over backwards.

And how wonderful it is, life with you and your brothers, always behind on things, always dropping the ball.  Laughing and laughing and feeling oh so irreverant about life.

You.  The boy we named for the journey we are on.

Happy Birthday, plus 17 days, my son.

Miles, you were just who we needed when you came into our lives.

You were a snuggler and a mama's boy from those first fretful moments you were placed into my arms.  In a cold hospital nursery I sang to and nursed a very frantic baby boy--a boy who couldn't seem to find his breath.  A boy with a broken bone from a rough passage.  It was 4am, and text messages were going out to family asking for prayer for you to be well.  I felt as if I rescued you right then as you miraculously settled.  You began to breath deeply, and find peace to keep going.  I felt redeemed--my body seemed to want to do us in during your birth, but was now giving you life and safety.  I think, right there in that strange place, we both decided we could be okay if we had each other near. 

Baby, I've been holding on to you ever since.

Miles, you are three now.  This has meant a few things this year.

You talk!  I thought you would take your time, hardly uttering a word before your second birthday.  But the words came in a flood, and people say things of you like, "Wow, he is really articulate" and "I can't believe how well he speaks."  But you know what I think of that, Miles?  I am simply grateful to know what is on your mind.  You have a lovely, silly view of the world.  I'm so glad you are able to spell this out for me so I can understand despite my grown-up ways.

You are so brave and spunky and wild.  Gone is Mellow Miles and the boy who used to hide behind my knee.  You meet your world with such confidence.  I love to watch you.  You know just when to crack a joke, stick up for yourself, or let something slide to promote peace.  You also know how to skillfully push my buttons, and how to throw a wild and effective tantrum just to help me grow in patience.  Really, boy, you are an instrument in God's hands, I'm convinced.  But I'm thankful, Miles.  I will take all of it and be glad for you.

To top it off, you love me in my language.  You love me with your tender, scratchy little words, "Mommy, I wuv you."  You tell me so often.  You pat my cheeks, and you hug my neck.  Buddy, you're the whole package: stereotypical toddler with all the emotional baggage that comes with a prefrontal cortex that is still, how should we say, "in process".  And at the same time you are darling.  Completely endearing and cute and funny and genius.  You are fun. 

We are so happy to witness your life, to guide it and shape it.  We are so blessed to have you as our son, Miles.  Miles Benjamin.

Happy Birthday, baby.  May your sweetest dreams come true for you this year.  And... may you finally begin to understand the space-time continuum so your life is a little less frustrating.

We love you, Miles.

Mom and Dad

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