Six Months

Dear Nathan,

Somewhere, somebody decided to let time speed on past me, letting you turn six months old in the blink of an eye. I've spent this Saturday morning reminiscing on that one six months ago. We happened to drive by the hospital yesterday evening, and I was able to remember watching the dawn over the trees through the window in the hospital room in that short interval between getting my epidural and starting to push. It brought back that first moment I saw you so vividly, the way your eyes focused right in on mine, as though you claimed me as your mommy in that very moment.
In the six months since that eventful morning, you have grown in every way possible. You are so big now, wearing clothes meant for your age, clothes that your brother was wearing at his first birthday. In fact, some of them are already too small for you, strained to their limits by your chubby belly and chunky thighs.

You have certainly matured, too. You are no longer the dependent, floppy little thing handed to me six months ago. Now you are quite independent, able to play with toys you find interesting and interacting with your brother without needing Mommy's undivided attention. And you're a far cry from floppy, able to sit up on your own and showing off that skill every chance you get.

But I'm still most impressed with you personality. I never had reason to doubt Patrick was a happy baby--until I met you. Nathan, you are in the middle of a crazy teething stage that I know must hurt terribly. Yet you rarely fuss from the pain. You still flash me one of those last few toothless grins every chance you get, even in the middle of the pain. It warms my heart to see you so content and happy all the time. Daddy and I must be doing something right for you to be so happy.

The quiet moments with you have grown few lately. When you're awake, you're typically active, anxious to be playing with something. And when you're sleepy, you just want to be put in bed so you can snuggle with a blankie and fall asleep on your own. But a few days ago, you drifted off in my arms after eating yourself to sleep. It was one of those rare quiet moments with you, and all I could do was stare at you with a goofy smile on my face. As sweet as you are awake, there is something so specially sweet about you sleeping in my arms. It shows total and complete trust of a sort that takes my breath away, one that makes me feel so blessed to be your mommy.

That word "blessed" has been a common theme for me lately. Every day I'll catch you gazing up at me while you eat, or smiling at me while you play, or sleeping in my arms on those rare occasions, and my heart overflows with gratitude. It no longer matters to me that my moments alone are few and far between. It was worth every moment of pain and worry while I was pregnant with you, and it has been worth every sleepless night since--just to have you in my life.

And so every day finds me with an urgent reminder to spend a few minutes in prayer. That gratitude I feel when I gaze into your eyes forces me to pray to my God, thanking Him for the many blessings in my life, the least of which is you. I never would have thought it possible, my dear son, but you are bringing me closer to God without even knowing it.

I hope I can return the favor year after year. It is one of my greatest roles as your mother after all, to teach you about your Savior and lead you to Him. On this Easter weekend, I am making a vow to you to be more diligent in this task, to both you and your brother. Because of you, I have been reminded that being a responsible parent to you has little to do with how many toys you have or how well-dressed you are. There is so much more I need to do for you than that, and I can only hope and pray that with God's help, I can fulfill those much more important needs.

So, my sweet Nathan, while I cherish those first six months of your life, I want the next six and twelve and two hundred and forty to be even more special to both of us. I want your naturally sweet and happy disposition to only grow more so, and I want to be a part of making you into a wonderful and godly man.
I have heard it said that first children make you a mother and second ones make you a better mother, and that is exactly what you have done. Thank you, Nathan, for teaching me how to be a better mother. I love you more than you will ever know.

Love,

Mommy