Three Years a Mom: Happy Birthday, Baby Jack.

Jack, 
I'm writing this the night before your third birthday. It's way too late for you to be napping, but you are. You're curled up against me, breathing deep and slow and radiating so much heat that I'm starting to sweat (you've always been a little furnace, from day one). The simple act of watching your chest rise and fall, watching how your eyelashes flutter just a little bit as you're in between deep sleep and waking up, seeing how peaceful your face looks as you dream...it fills me with so much love my chest feels like it's going to explode. 
You turn three tomorrow, a fact that elicits both a shrug and shock from me. Shock because, how? How are you this old? Didn't I bring you home from the hospital like, last week? But also shrugs because, only three? Haven't you just been around forever? Haven't you always been a part of life? All I know for sure is that my life is so much better, so much happier, so much more full of joy with you in it. 
I want to say thank you. This year has been a hard one in a lot of ways. There were many days that brought me to my knees, and there you always were, ready to snuggle, to share snacks, to demand a baby shark dance party. You didn't even know, and you may never know, just how many days you saved for me this year. I'm thankful for you for a billion reasons, but those days brought a particularly sacred kind of thankfulness for you. 
Now, I may be writing you a letter, but this is also a blog post, and I strive to be honest around here, so I have to let you in on a little secret: YOU ARE DIFFICULT. I am so thankful for you and so in love with you, but kid, you give me a run for my money on a daily basis. I have never been so tired in my whole life. But another secret: I wouldn't change a single second of it. You may drain me on the daily, but good grief if you don't fill me up even more. I've never been so full of so much goodness in my life. You are pure happiness, pure love, pure sweetness. You are everything. I can't believe you're mine. 
You are all of the good things: Brave, kind, trusting, good. You love making people laugh and have the funniest little sense of humor. You have the gentlest heart and the boldest spirit. I can say with zero hesitation that the world will be better because you're in it. 
I could write about you forever, but this seems like a good place to wrap it up. And by that, I mean you just woke up a smidge, stood up, threw your empty milk at me, and yelled "MILKKKK" before falling back into bed. 
Can't wait to see how much fun three is. Happy birthday, my tiny little love.
I love you the most, always and always and always. 

Letters to Jack: Your Third Fall.

Jack, Life with you is so slow and so fast. How are you almost three, how has that time passed so quickly? But how have you only been around for such a short time? How has time gone so slow that I feel like I've had you for always? How is it already your third fall? How is it only your third fall? 
This fall has been so full. First of all, you say all of the things! You learned what a pumpkin was, and after a trip to the pumpkin patch where you picked out "Jack's pumpkin," you deem every pumpkin you see "Jack's pumpkin." You painted a pumpkin this year and were a huge fan of that. 
It's crazy to look back and see how far you've come since last fall. How much you've changed, how many new things you can say and do. It's so much fun.  You said a big  H E C K  N O  to every Halloween costume we tried this year, but that's okay. You had fun anyway. I taught you the words "trick-or-treat" by standing in the kitchen and dropping candy in your bucket every time you said it. You only said it a few times while actually trick-or-treating, but every single day since you've brought me candy and said, "Jack's trick-or-treat, pleaseeeeee!" It is precious and it melts me and you've eaten entirely too much chocolate. I guess I kind of set myself up for that one.
I hope that the love of fall I'm trying to teach you is something you keep your whole life. I hope when the weather starts cooling down and the air turns chilly in the mornings, it makes you happy to be alive, always. I hope you always laugh your way through pumpkin patches and eat way too much Halloween candy. I hope the words "Trick-or-treat!" always bring a smile to your face. 
I hope that when you look back at pictures of this fall, even if you might not remember it, that you feel overwhelming love. Because you are so overwhelmingly loved. 
It's the most wonderful season, and you make it so much more so. 
I love you. 
always, 
me

Happy Two Years, My Little Love.

 

Jack,
In two short days, you turn two! While I'm normally one to say that time flies, the past two years have felt like an eternity in the very best of ways. I feel as though I've already lived a lifetime of adventures and love with you already. 
I've said it before and I'll say it a million times more: You are my greatest gift. You are everything I didn't know I wanted and everything I had no idea I needed. 
You light up the darkest of days simply by existing. You're a little firecracker full of joy, and no matter what else is going on, I just can't help but be happy when I'm with you. 
You are downright hilarious. I could write for hours about that, but you find yourself funnier than anyone else, and I love that. I hope you always laugh at yourself. 
You are sweet and stubborn. Curious and clingy. Loud and wild and precious. You are everything good in the world, and I still can't believe you're mine. You have filled my life with so many good things and, for someone who doesn't say a whole lot, you've sure taught me a ton. 
Happy second birthday, my little wild child. The world is a better place because of you. 

Letters to Jack: Your Second October.

Jack, 
This is the second October I've gotten to spend with you, and it's crazy how big the difference between the two is: Carrying you versus chasing you, up all night teething versus sleeping through the night (PRAISES), not getting to go to church versus....oh wait, you still won't go to the nursery.  But both Octobers have had you, so both have been imperfectly perfect. Both have been the best Octobers of my life just because you've been in them. 
I'm still learning how to be a mom, and you're learning how to be a human. We're learning together. I wing it most of the time, but you don't mind, because you don't know anything different. 
You're learning so much, and it's teaching me so much. For example: Expressing your emotions. You are NOT afraid of letting it be known when you're unhappy. I think adults could actually benefit from this...throw a fit, then get over it and move on. 
It's been a dark month on the news. A lot of violence, a lot of evil. A lot of things I long to be able to protect you from forever, but know that isn't possible. But having you motivates me to never, ever give up. No matter how dark it gets, I will never stop trying to make the world a better place, a brighter place, for you. 
A few things about you, right now: 

• I've been taking you running in the mornings when you wake up, and you've started to expect that. So much so that you stand up in your crib and say "Go?" when I come get you in the mornings. 
• If you want to go outside, you will bring me my shoes and point to my feet until I put them on. 
• Your favorite thing is to pretend to talk on the phone. You hold your hand up to your ear and say, "Hello? Hello?" Until someone answers your phone call and says hello back to you, and then you immediately cut them off and say, "Bye-bye" and throw your hand down. It's hilarious. 

You still manage to be the best surprise of my life and the brightest bright spot. 

You are the best thing that's ever been mine. 

I Hope You Always Throw Your Head Back & Laugh || Letters to Jack

Jack,  Last night, our air conditioner was broken. This meant a repairman coming in and out, which, for some reason, terrified the crap out of you. Every time the door opened, you burst into tears and ran full-speed into my legs, almost knocking me over. Eventually, I just picked you up and spun you around to distract you, and you responded by throwing your head back and laughing the most genuine, joyful laugh I've ever heard. In a moment similar to deja vu, but not quite, I could see a whole life of laughter for you.  I imagined you throwing your head back and laughing during a day at the beach, a young kid dizzy with sun and saltwater and sand and body surfing. I imagined you throwing your head back and laughing the first time you pull out of the neighborhood alone after getting your drivers license, having your first taste of real freedom.  I could see you tilting your head back and laughing about a movie you just saw with a girl you're falling in love with, because falling in love will do that to you.  I imagined you closing your eyes and laughing along to the music after asking a stranger to dance, because nights like that will do that to you.  I could see so much for you...laughing on vacation with your best friends, because making memories will do that to you. Laughing after college graduation, because having no idea what you're doing next will do that to you. Laughing after finding your new favorite restaurant, because good food and wine will do that to you.  I imagined you holding your own kid one day, bouncing them around, watching them throw their head back and laugh at you. That will make you throw your head back and laugh, too. Trust me, I know.  In these moments, I realize you're not just a toddler who runs from me when I try to change his diaper. You're not just a one-year-old who loves peek-a-boo and Curious George more than anything else. You're not just a clingy little guy who lets me get absolutely nothing done when you want to play football. You're all of those things right now, of course, but you're also an entire life waiting to happen. You're a whole life happening.  I hope you always feel joy with such abandonment. I hope you never stifle it, but that you always throw your head back and laugh.  I'm going to work on doing more of that, too. 

Letters to Jack: One Year.

Jack, 
Tomorrow you turn one. A whole year. 365 days I have known you. 365 days you have been in my life, changing me for the better, stretching me into a new person. 365 days I have loved you. 365 days I have been a mama. 
I had a long, long list of fears before you were born. Deep fears: That I wasn't adequate enough to be a good mom for you, that I wouldn't know what to do, that I was somehow behind because I hadn't spent years planning your arrival. And shallow fears, too: That I wouldn't be able to have a life anymore, that we wouldn't get to do fun things anymore, that Chris and I wouldn't really love being parents. 
Not a single one of those fears came true, deep or shallow. 
You are the best, best thing in the whole world. Our daily walks and trips to the pool and park dates where you belly laugh when pushed in the swings are treasures I never knew I was hunting for. 
You took your first steps on Wednesday...three shaky little steps before falling, and I caught you. You did it again, falling harder, and I caught you again. After a while, you realized you could be brave and keep trying and fall even harder because I was right there to catch you. 
I know you can't understand everything just yet, but I hope you understand this: That you are loved beyond explanation, and that I will always, always be there to catch you. 
Happy birthday, my little love. It will be the greatest privilege of my life to get to do this seventeen more times with you. 

Letters to Jack: Eleven Months.

My sweet little love, 
First things first, I can't believe that the next time I write one of these letters, you will be an entire year old. I feel like I've known you forever, but man can a year go by fast. 
Month ten was the most fun we've had yet. We had Thanksgiving, we went to universal, you met (and pretty much hated) the Grinch, we've watched Christmas movies, gone and looked at lights, and just had the best time. 
Every single day you are more and more aware. When we took you to look at Christmas lights, I could tell you were really taking it all in. You would turn and stare at lights, and after a few seconds of staring the biggest smile would slowly creep across your face. It was a moment I will never, ever forget. I hope you always stay this curious and in awe of the world around you. 
To say I am excited about the next two weeks is a massive understatement. YOUR FIRST CHRISTMAS. Chris and me and you and Gatsby are going to have the best day ever. I know you won't remember it, but I hope that you feel happy. And loved. Because you are so, so loved. 
Sorry in advance for making you take pictures with Santa. If meeting the Grinch is any indication, you're not gonna be too happy about that. But hey, we all have to take one for the team every now and then. 
I love you more than life, you silly, stinky, hilarious little babe. You have brought a whole new meaning to joy this year. 
Love you forever. xoxo

Letters to Jack: 10 Months.

Jack, 
I have a very strict rule about not celebrating Christmas before Thanksgiving, but I walked into Target with you last week and pushing you past all the decorations and trees made me emotional. I joked that it was because you've made me weak (you have, you totally have), but it's really this: You make every single day better. The thought of us spending my favorite month celebrating my favorite season with you...it just seems as close to heaven as we're ever gonna get while we're down here. 
In less than two weeks we'll be celebrating your first Thanksgiving, and you're the perfect age for that because you're eating more and more food. You're going to be thrilled with a holiday that is made up of meals. 
This month (your first presidential election!) has made me think a lot about all the important things I want to teach you. Honestly, I'm glad you're young enough that you don't understand what people are saying yet because there's a heck a lot of hate being thrown around lately. It just reminds me of how important it is to instill love and kindness into you. I hope you feel so surrounded by those things as you grow up.
In a month where a lot of things have gone wrong, you have been the brightest spot. In a month where there has been a ton of negativity in the world, you have been the happiest ray of sunshine. I think every single month will just be made up of me being surprised by you, being surprised by how much more I love you, and thinking about how lucky I've been to get to spend that month with you.
Happy ten months my tiny love. I love you to the moon and back, you little munchkin. 

Letters to Jack: Nine Months.

Baby Jack, 
The first time I woke up in the hospital after you were born, I looked over to see your tiny sleeping body next to me and thought, through exhaustion and pain, "I couldn't possibly love you more than I do in this moment." And I was wrong.
A few months later, I came home from one of the first times I'd ever been apart from you, and you started babbling and giggling at me for the first time. My eyes filled with tears and I knew it wasn't possible to love you any more than I did at that moment. And I was wrong. 
We went to the beach with you a few weeks ago, and it was one of the best days I have ever had. The weather was perfect and you loved the ocean. I watched you scoot around trying to eat seashells and thought to myself, I will never be happier than I am today. I will never have more love in my heart than I do in this moment. And I was wrong. 
I know that my entire life will look like this. Over and over I will come to the conclusion that I couldn't possibly love you more, and over and over I will be wrong. 
I know this because on Thursday, we had a really crappy day. I was sick. You broke your car seat while we were out, and I didn't have my wallet and couldn't buy you a new one. So I spent an hour in a parking lot trying to balance holding you and figuring out a way to fix your seat. We got home and you skipped your nap. I had a lot of work to do, but a project that should have taken me thirty minutes to finish took me three hours because you screamed every time I left your sight.
It was a trying and tiring day. There was no trip to the beach, no one around to help me out, no happy, well-rested baby. But as I wrapped you in a blanket and rocked you to sleep, I kissed your chubby little cheeks and my heart exploded, just like it does every day. And I knew, deep down inside me, that I couldn't possibly love you more than I did right at that moment. 
And I knew, deep down inside me, that I was wrong. 
Happy nine months, sweet little love. I have never loved you more than I have today, and I promise I'll love you even more tomorrow. 

Letters to Jack: 8 Months.

Sweet Baby Jack, 
As I'm writing this, I'm drinking pumpkin coffee and have the doors open because it's 70 degrees outside (pretty amazing for a Florida September!), and you're hanging out in your pack & play, playing with your stuffed Clifford the Big Red Dog. It's the kind of morning where it's nearly impossible to not feel thankful. You make me so thankful. 
Life with you gets better every day-it's a cliche, yes, but a true one! Your personality shows itself a little more each day. You laugh more, "talk" more, and have the funniest attitude. You love swinging, Gatsby, and going for walks. 
I can't decide if these 8 months flew by or if they feel like 8 years. I can vividly remember the first moment I saw you as if it were yesterday, but it feels like you've always been a part of us.  Being your mom is the hardest thing I've ever done, and it's my favorite thing I've ever done. Honestly, we're kind of just winging it together, but you seem to be happy and healthy, and that's all that matters. 
This time of year (from now until December) is my absolute favorite. I'm so excited to get to celebrate all of your first holidays with you. Baking pumpkin treats with you, dressing you up for your first Halloween, celebrating your first Thanksgiving, and then Christmas...it's going to be the best.
I don't have the words to tell you how wonderful I think you are or how much I love being your mom, but I hope that one day you will read these letters and see just how much I have always loved you, and just how much you've added to my life. You take a normal Wednesday in September and make it pretty magical with your tiny giggles and sweet babbles.
Love you to the moon and back, little love. 

Letters to Jack: Seven Months.

Dear little Jack, 
You've been in this world for seven months now. That's two-hundred and twelve days. Two-hundred and twelve days of you bringing joy and purpose into my life. Two-hundred and twelve days that have been brighter because of you, more full because of you, filled with more love and light and, okay, sleepless nights, because of you.
This month has been a challenging one. Between teething and not sleeping and Chris working some insane hours, I've felt less like a Pinterest-perfect, has it all together, savors every second kind of mom and more like a slightly crazed, sort of holding it together, really needs to wash her hair kind of mom. 
But the beautiful thing is that you don't care. You don't care that I haven't managed to do a monthly photo shoot of you with cute props, you don't care that your nursery doesn't look like something straight off of Pinterest, you don't care that I consider a Target run a fun outing for us. Your face still lights up when you see me. You still want to snuggle up to me when you're sleepy. 

Because all you know is that I'm your mom. And no matter how hard things seem or how sleepy I am or how messy things get, you love me just the same. There are no words to describe how great of a gift that is. 
You have two little teeth, are suddenly very ticklish, and have a lot to scream say. I wouldn't be surprised if, by the time I write your eight-month letter, you can say mama.
You're my best little buddy and I just adore you and your sweet little giggles and snuggles and babbles. There may have been grumpy teething days and what felt like zero-sleep nights, but these have been the best seven months of my whole entire life. 
Happy seven months, little Sneebles. Love you forever.

Letters to Jack: 6 Months.

Little bub!
You've been alive for six months...that's half of a YEAR. 
While it has gone by somewhat fast, it's also hard to believe we've only known you for six little months. That you've only been snuggling me for one hundred and eighty-two days. That your sweetest little smile and laugh and your giant personality wasn't around yet just seven months ago. You fit in so perfectly that it's like you've always been here. 
The older you get, the more fun I have hanging out with you. Your laughs are my favorite thing in this entire world. You are obsessed with Gatsby, and if he so much as walks into the same room as you, you laugh and laugh and laugh. 

You've decided that you don't need to go back to sleep after five anymore, so I'm pretty tired, but I don't mind. I put you in your bouncer and you watch Veggie Tales while I drink my coffee, and every now and then you turn your head back to give me the sweetest smile. Those itsy bitsy baby smiles fill me with more happiness than I knew could exist.
For the first time, me and you have been on our own a lot. We've gone solo grocery shopping, done Target runs, and even met some new friends together. Adjusting to taking care of you by myself has been a challenge, but I wouldn't for one second want it any other way. Having you with me makes my days so much richer. I was made to be your mama. 

You've woken up from a nap and are now rubbing your face into my neck as I type this. You smell like baby sunscreen and are making the sweetest little coos as you hug me, and my heart feels like it just might explode. That's how you make me feel every single day. 
Thank you for filling my life with unexplainable joy. Happy half birthday, you little munchkin. Love you forever. xo

Letters to Jack: 5 Months.

Sweet little bub, 
The bigger you get, the more fun we have. You're growing into your own little personality, and it's so much fun to see what makes you laugh. You love to be a part of everything that's going on around you, love to go swimming, and, most recently, you loooove you some veggie tales. 

This month has been a full one! Lots of big things have happened, and it has been so much fun having you be a part of them. I never imagined you as a part of this season of my life, but now I can't even imagine life without you. The med-school graduation was so much more meaningful having you there, and buying a house and moving was so much more fun knowing that you were going to live there. 

This house is the best. It's the house you'll do a lot of growing up in. I can just imagine the fun you'll have in the backyard, the days you'll beg me to take you swimming at the pool, the way you'll learn to ride your bike on the sidewalk in front of our house. Our first house, so perfect for our little family. 
* * *
I hate that this is a part of your life, but it was a heartbreaking weekend in the city you were born in. I spent a lot of hours wondering how to best shield you from evil, wondering how to protect you, wondering how to keep you from learning that sometimes there is terror in the world. And in short, I can't. And that's really, really hard to think about.
But I can do my best to make your life the best, most fun it can be, because life is short. 
And I can do my best to teach you to love everyone, because you should. 
And I will do my absolute best to show you that if you look really closely, even in tragedy, you can find some good. You can find people helping people, loving people, no matter what.  Because they're there. 

I will teach you to be one of those people, a helper, a bright spot. 
For now, you are the brightest spot in my life. I love you forever, little munchkin. 

Letters to Jack: 4 Months.

Jack, 
Today is a big deal for me. It marks one year since I found out you were going to be making your way into the world. We can easily call this the most life-changing year for me. 
When I found out about you (after spending $98 dollars on pregnancy tests just to be sure), I was so nervous and scared...I was worried that I wasn't ready, that I wouldn't know how to take care of you. I didn't know how you would fit into the life we had planned. 
Spoiler alert: You fit perfectly. 
A year ago, I woke up and drank coffee and watched Netflix, with zero ideas about how life was changing. Today, I woke up and fed you and snuggled you back to sleep. We're on vacation-see, all of my worries about fun things in life being over were just stupid-and we'll spend the day shopping and playing in the sun and swinging and admiring your sweet little baby giggles that you've been giving out more and more frequently. 

But for now, you're snuggled in next to me, wearing footie pajamas that have dinosaurs on your feet...the feet that you will spend all day trying to put in your mouth. You're sleeping, so peacefully, and you still smell like lavender from your nighttime lotion. Here I am, 365 days later, drinking my coffee in bed again, and here you are, much different than you were a year ago, but still the same little love. 
You have changed every single aspect of my life. So I guess I just wanted to say thank you for that. 
Happy one year of hanging out together, little man. You are everything I never knew I wanted, and I will love you for all of my forever.
xo. 

Letters to Jack: 3 Months.

Jack,

On Thursday, you turned three months old on the same day that I turned 24 years old. I just wanted to let you know that you are, hands down, the greatest thing that happened to my life this year. I continue to be amazed at how much I can love something that's only been here for such a short time, but it's crazy amounts of love. You are the best. The very, very best.

This month was so much fun. It was your first Easter, and even though you won't remember (and were extremely uninterested) we made you an easter basket. We had pool days and road trips. We dedicated you at our church back home. You got to meet my family. You experienced Match Day and we found out you get to stay a Florida baby.

One of the things I was most worried about before having you was how much my life would change. It sounds so selfish now, but I was worried that my life would be unrecognizable, that I would be flailing around and feeling lost. That could not be further from the truth. 

On one hand, life hasn't changed. You slipped right into it like you've just always belonged. And the parts that have changed have been the best changes. When I woke up on my birthday, I couldn't wait for you to wake up. I couldn't wait to snuggle with you on the couch on my first birthday with you. 

So yeah, I guess my life did change quite a bit when you made an appearance. It became so much more fun and full and perfect. These last three months have truly been better than anything I thought they would be. 

Love you and your sweet little smile forever, little munchkin. 

Letters to Jack: Two Months.

My sweet little love,

I'm holding you as I write this. You're staring up at me with wide eyes and your hands under your chin, like you're thinking. I know in a few minutes, you'll start making a case for more breakfast, but for now the house is quiet and it's just me and you, hanging out and having coffee like buddies.

That's really how the last two months have been-enjoying life with my best friend and you, our new little best friend. This month, especially, has been so much fun. I feel like you've had your own personality from day one, but I've gotten to see so much of that this month. Your smiles are way more frequent and less accidental-you smile whenever we rub your head. You've started sticking your tongue out and you make this little chirping noises that I think will one day turn into a laugh.

You had a lot of big adventures this month-you went to the beach, to brunch with our friends, to the mall, to a fancy banquet, to many, many pool days. You're such an easy baby, we've just taken you everywhere and had the best time doing it.

This weekend was rough. You had your first vaccines and you got hurt for the first time-a scratch on your perfect little face. Both times you screamed, and both times it felt like my heart was going to shatter right inside of me.

After your shots, we snuggled you so much. I promised you that as soon as you were old enough, I was going to take you for ice cream to make up for this crappy day. I also told you that on the bright side, you wouldn't be getting polio. I know you couldn't understand that, but I hope you felt loved anyway.

I know it would be normal to end this by saying "I can't believe you're two months old already!" but that wouldn't be true. I can believe that, because I have spent every single day enjoying you and soaking up all that this stage of life has to offer. Time isn't racing by, because me and you, we're getting all we can get out of life. The good days and the long days and the hard days, we're living them all. Two months down, and it's been the best.

Happy two months, Jack Jacobs. I continue to be convinced that you are the best thing that has ever happened in the history of this world. I look forward to so many more months of just living life with you.

Love you forever. xo

Letters to Jack || O N E M O N T H

Jack,

Happy one month of being alive, little guy! You've had quite the month-you've gone from not even being born yet to the hospital to your new house...you've met so many people and learned so many new things. You've become so much more alert and started following people with your eyes, really being able to see them...it's so much fun to watch. I wonder what your little mind thought about all the change this month.

One month in, and I can truly say that you've changed me forever. Of course, I knew that would happen. But now that you're here, it's a whole new world.



To be quite honest, I was a little worried for you. Your dad and me weren't planning on being parents so soon, and while we tried our best to get ready for you, we didn't exactly know a lot (or anything, really) about how to be parents. I worried if you would be able to tell, or if you would somehow miss out on things because of us. I don't worry about that anymore-we may still be winging it, but I like to think the amount of love we have for you makes up for that. You may not have been born into a family that had been preparing for your arrival for years and brought you home to a top-of-the-line nursery, but a lot of babies are born to people who don't really love each other, and you'll never have to worry about that.



Before you were here, I spent a lot of time wondering what kind of mom I would be. Mom. That word still sounds so weird when I say it in reference to myself. And really, I still don't know how to answer that question. I still don't know if I'm a "good" mom, because who knows how to define that?

But I do know that as long as I'm around, you will be fiercely loved. That you will always have a snuggle partner in me. That you have two parents who love each other like crazy, and who love you more than anything else. That you will grow up learning how to have fun. 

I know that long after you've outgrown the snuggle stage...when you're not a baby and you don't need me as much anymore, I will still be your biggest fan, no matter what. You will grow up in a house that teaches you the important things: That pizza is always an excellent choice for dinner, that taking adventures to new places is more important than buying nice things, that nothing brings more happiness than having a puppy, and that you can do absolutely anything you put your mind to. You'll move mountains one day, my little love.

Happy one month to you. Your funny little personality and your snuggles and your side eye have made this the best month of my life.

I love you, my little wild thing.