Letter

Dear Elijah,

Wow! Things sure do change, don't they? I was thinking about that recently as several of Mommy's friends are becoming mommies for the first time themselves. Way back a long time ago (a little over 17 months ago, to be exact) when you were first born, Mommy didn't know what to think! I was so excited that you were finally here!

You were so little and perfect and had the cutest little nose I'd ever seen....

But you know... you also cried. Like, nonstop. Nothing I did made you happy. I felt like an idiot, wondered why in the world I thought having a baby was a good idea. I thought I was a horrible mother and that you hated me. When I think back on our days in the hospital after you were born, this picture perfectly sums it up: Blurry, exhausted. (However, it was one of the few times Mommy actually slept!)

I remember thinking I had no idea what to do with a baby and that the doctors and nurses were crazy to let me take you home. I mean, you hated me! Why would you want to come home with me anyway?! Daddy was the only one who could calm you down, so I thought, well, okay. At least he likes his daddy. 

Who would have known then how much we would click now? We have so much fun together! (At least, I have fun with you, and it seems like you have fun with Mommy, too!) You hardly ever cry any more and when you do, a hug from Mommy is usually all you need to feel alllllll better. I love you so much and am so happy that we made it through those first few rough days. :) 

Always

Several hundred times a day (at least), I ask Elijah, "How much does Mommy love you?" He answers, "Always." Sometimes he stretches it out - "aaaaaaaaaaaaaalwwwwaaaaaaayyyyyyyyyyyyyssss!" - and screws up his little face while saying it, as if trying to convey through his facial expression as well as his tone how big "always" is. 

Recently, at night, while we are rocking and singing and saying prayers, Elijah has started asking questions of his own after I tell him that I love him. "Mommy loves you always and forever, baby." He looks at me, often nods, considering, and then says, "Daddy?" "Yes, baby, daddy loves you always, too." A pause. "Papa?" "Yes, Papa loves you, too." Nod, pause. "Mom-mom?" And on and on it goes, until he completes the whole list of people he knows and often repeating back on itself. 

So it was a little ironic today that I stumbled upon this post, from one of my favorite blogs: http://www.parents.com/blogs/dadabase/2013/09/23/deep-thoughts/what-it-means-when-somebody-loves-you/  Apparently my kiddo isn't the only one who wants to know that people he loves, love him also. 

I'm sure all parents have this little question-and-answer game, a catechism of sorts, to explain to their children how much they love them. And I'm sure, like with most catechisms, children learn the correct answers to say before they really understand what the answers mean. I was thinking about that recently, that my son doesn't *really* understand what it means that I love him always, or that I even love him at all. Sometimes it makes me a little sad that he doesn't really grasp the concept of love, but then when I realize that he doesn't understand because he's never been UNloved, it makes me feel much better, and if it takes being mistreated or neglected - the opposite of being loved - for him to know or appreciate what being loved means, then I'm happy for him to remain in the dark. We know that he is loved, always and forever, bigger than the moon, and longer than eternity, and right now that's all that matters.