Dear Aidan,
Today, we celebrated 15 months of your existence by giving you a jab on your deliciously juicy thigh. It was pretty funny, actually. As the doctor injected the needle through your skin, your face crumpled and you wailed for about a second. That’s right, ONE SECOND. And immediately after, you gave the good doctor a WTF DUDE?! look before being distracted by the idea of seeing CAR! CAR! outside the window.
That sums up your personality, really.
Right now, you are at a delightful age where you babble incessantly. You’ve been babbling for a pretty long time now but the difference now is that your babbling actually makes sense sometimes. There’s “nana” and “car” and “ba (bus)” and “dada”. You understand us, or at least the tone of our voices, and you do follow instructions.
Like when we tell you to “Cover, please” after you lift up our shirts to poke at our belly buttons. Like when we say “keep” after you are done with your toys and books. Like when I tell you to “lie down” so I can nurse you (although, hilariously, you tend to lie down with your back facing me). Like when we say “u-turn please” when you go the wrong way.
You are one of the most joyful child I have ever seen, and you love being around people. You love being in wide, open spaces, and enjoy toddling around to explore. And those are beautiful moments, seeing you walk like a little drunken penguin in new places, shouting in happiness.
The feeling of immense love and deep content envelops me every single day. It’s like an invisible cloak that sits upon my shoulder, shielding me from the weariness and stress of our lives. No matter how tired or frustrated I am at the end of a work day, I instantly stand taller and feel better when I see you.
Motherhood is like having magic at my fingertips all the time.
And that makes me see that everything I had done during those two years of pain and anguish makes sense. It’s worth it. This is worth it. You are worth it.
My job as your mother is to ensure that as you grow up, your wings are not clipped and your sense of wonder at the world is not diluted. I want you to be forever joyful, and happy. I want you to be loving and respectful and thoughtful.
But right now? Don’t grow up too fast, my little man. Stay my baby for just a while longer, so that I can still hold you tight in my arms as you sleep and breathe in your sweet, sweaty scent. So that I can reach down and kiss you, and have you kiss me back right on the lips so willingly.
I love you to the moon and back, more than you will ever comprehend.
Love always,
mama
Yannisms 