To my beautiful son,

You will never know the last words I said before I ever met you, and the first words right after we were introduced.

You will never know just how nervous I was when they placed you on me, right on top of my heart. I looked around just to make sure this was it.

You may never know how long I yearned for you, 35 years before you came along.

You will never know the sleepless nights that led into 2 sleepless years.

You will never know the special place you have in my heart as being my first little miracle. My little fat feet and button nose.

My god I love you, and don’t care how ugly or dishevelled I look when I pick you up and kiss you and you kiss me back, with my hair everywhere and my cheeks in between your hands.

Will you remember those first few months that led into the first year?

Will you remember the time I cried when you took your first steps?

Will you remember being so attached to me for 2 years, and the one day all of a sudden you weren’t. It became all about daddy.

Will you remember the time I cried because I was so tired after 2 years of sleep deprivation that I couldn’t remember the photos that we took and of my presence there?

Will you remember the time you turned off the lights at the library during toddler time and sent 25 kids and the library teacher into a panic?

Will you remember the yelling, the tantrums and sheer panic of chasing you down the street while you let go of mummy’s hand for a wondrous turn elsewhere? Many a time.

You will never know the lessons you have taught me, as a mum, a carer, a nurse and teacher. Most importantly you will never know the lessons you have taught me about being a child to someone else too, who has travelled this road before me, and maybe was right all those years ago.

I hope you know, you have been so worth it. For I cannot wait to see what the oyster of your world opens up to be. You make every living minute of my life livelier, my hair greyer, my wisdom wiser, and my patience thinner. Or is it bigger?

Will you remember holding my face in your hands and not letting me go until you fall asleep. Every sleep, every night.

Will you remember the little girl growing inside mummy’s tummy that will arrive just as you are 2.5 and who needs you more than you will know? Will you remember to please for the love of god  be a good boy when she gets here? I know you’ll probably squish her face, push her, maybe even bite her one day, but I pray you learn to be gentle too and please don’t be jealous of mummy now having to grow her heart for two.

Silly me, will sometimes cry and count down the weeks before it’s no longer just ‘us’, my little boy and me. No longer just us at the library on Monday’s for toddler time. No longer just us at the chicken farm. You will be a big brother soon. You will be a big brother to someone who needs her big brother to look out for her and grow up together in a very different world to what I remember from my time as a kid. I need your help to raise a brother and sister to be the best of who they can be.

You will remember holding your sisters hand on her first day at school, and she will remember holding yours.

You will remember being best friends for hopefully what is most of the time.

You will remember not always agreeing with each-other.

You will remember the love I have for you, for both of you.

Be a good man, a kind man, an amazing brother, and a humble human. Use your voice and be quietly heard, your presence to be loudly known.

Be the son you want me to want you to be, and be with me for as long as you need until you need to fly out on your own.

Welcome little man to the world of men. – Your mummy Maria.