An Open Letter To My Son
On your 2nd birthday (Feb 20th, 2021)
I am consumed by conflicting feelings of sadness and joy every day.
It’s a little confusing, actually. Something I wasn’t expecting. I first felt it when you learned how to sleep without my help.
Once I had the ability to think again, that is. Once I started to recover from the 5-month long sleep deprivation, and I could think without the fog that my mind had been lumped with.
I suddenly felt like you didn’t need me anymore. At least in that respect.
Why is it that with all good things there must be a comedown? A dwelling sense of grief?
Or should I be looking at it from the other side of the lens?
With everything bad, there is good.
Yes, finally, you learned how to fall asleep! And I could catch-up on my own sleep at last!
But I started to miss the deep breaths that blew across my cheeks when you slept on my chest, your nose brushing my face.
Maybe it is that I failed to see the silver lining before of your desire to sleep on me, and on me alone. I was too tired to focus on the good side — on the snuggles, that in hindsight, I wouldn’t trade for the world.
The snuggles I’d do anything to feel again from your newborn self.
But I did it for our own good. We needed a bit of space away from each other to enjoy the moments we would have together more. You didn’t need me so much and I had to be cruel to be kind. To both of us.
I had to love you more by letting you go just a little bit.
I had to love me more by letting you go just a little bit.
I take comfort in the fact that I still steal snuggles from you now and again, even if they’re not the same. Now the hugs are more deliberate on your part, more voluntary — but they won’t be for long as you inevitably grow up.
When I get you up from your cot in the mornings and you don’t automatically get down to catch up with your friends — the bus, the car, the elephant. Sometimes you wrap your arms around me and it’s as comforting as the smell of a freshly baked loaf of bread in the kitchen, or the feeling of going to bed with fresh sheets on it.
Strike all that — holding each other is the ultimate comfort on its own right.
You’re Growing Up and There’s Nothing I Can do About It
When you choose to hold my hand as you walk by my side I get excited and sad at the same time. I wore you in a sling for as long as I possibly could, before you got too heavy. Now, I carry you to bed, but for everything else, you carry yourself.
You’re getting big, and I love witnessing it all. I feel privileged to call myself your mother. I’m thankful that fate, God, the universe, science, picked us to live life together.
But every night, when I kiss you goodnight, I know I am saying goodbye to some of the little things you used to do. In the mornings, when I say good morning, I know I am greeting some new parts of you that I am yet to get to know.
I am both amazed and overwhelmed by all the new things you learn and apply every day. How could this tiny human be so clever, so fascinating?
And why do I miss the version of you from 6 months ago?
Why do I miss you from a year ago?
I look at videos of you from the summer, and I think, my gosh, you don’t say those babbles anymore. You have replaced them with actual words.
I desperately try to hold on to the memories of you from when you couldn’t walk or crawl. I miss you needing me to move you and yet when you display the power of movement I am both proud and sad.
I dwell on what was, embrace what comes, and saviour each and every moment with you. You are my life’s work, you are what I live for entirely. I live my life on purpose so I can show you how to live your life on purpose.
You Are Your Own Person
Through you, I am learning that you are your own person, and that I cannot rely on you to feed my emotions. Even though this is hard, because a mother can never completely detach from her children. But I must remember not to lean on you for comfort, because you will have your own battles to fight, and your own life to build.
I am not and will never be your problem.
All I can do as you grow is encourage that independence, and hold your hand when you need it. But all the learning, all the work, will come from you eventually. As you get older, I will have to slowly pull back and just watch nature take its course, and hope to God that I have taught you well to live happily and to not accept misery’s company. I will guide you as much as you will let me without you feeling like I am interfering too much.
Most importantly, I will always be there to catch you when you fall.
Happy Birthday Son
For now, though, enjoy this amazing age of 2 — where you get to ride your car; learn how to use the scooter; jump on our bed; laugh till you cry; playfight with your daddy, and eat plenty of cake — the accumulating calories don’t matter just yet.
Happy birthday, baby boy.
Lots of love,
Mommy xXx
Sylvia Emokpae is passionate about self-love and motherhood. See more work like this.