Dear Alex,
I can't believe you turn fourteen today. It seems like yesterday that your dad and I left for the hospital when the labor pains became too strong to ignore. I remember looking at our little house as we pulled out of the driveway and crying. Even though your dad and I were totally prepared for your arrival, I knew my entire life was about to change and I was terrified.
You took your sweet time entering this world, and eventually the doctor had to surgically remove you. (I know, you've heard that before, but trust me son, it won't be the last time I remind you.) After 30 hours of labor, I was so anxious to see what you looked like. Dad and I both burst into tears as soon as you emerged, red and howling. We were parents! I had always wanted my first baby to be a boy named Alexander, and you were my wish come true.
We stayed in the hospital for two days. When we left, the temperature was close to 100 as I struggled to buckle you into the car seat we had purchased. I was drenched with sweat by the time I was confident you were secure-ten minutes later. Somehow, that car seat didn't seem so challenging on the dry runs. This was the first of many realizations that being a parent wasn't as easy as I originally believed.
I will never forget what happened when Grandma and Grandpa saw you for the first time. You were their first grandchild, so their excitement was tangible. They walked into the room and spotted you on the floor, sleeping in your car seat. They were overcome with oohs and awwws, and I thought they might rip you in half when they fought over who would get to hold you first. I stood in shock at the tug of war they were subjecting your little body to.
Your grandparents stayed until you were 21 days old, and I sobbed as they pulled out of our driveway to leave. Grandma was so helpful, and now for the first time in three weeks, I was going to be left alone with you. You decided to turn into the most colicky baby on the planet at that very moment. For the next five months, you screamed constantly if I wasn't standing up and holding you. I wore a path out in the carpet, pacing with you, pleading with you to please stop crying. You were spared a trajectory out the window only because you slept through the night at eight weeks old, giving me just enough sleep to tolerate your confounding wails for another day. I'm sure that if I hadn't been sleeping well, I would have been institutionalized.
Once you hit six months though, you were Mr. Smiley. People would stop me constantly in stores to tell me what a beautiful baby I had, and I'd beam with pride. I kissed you constantly, you were so delicious and sweet. You grew up so fast...you spoke full sentences before your first birthday, you knew the names of all kinds of dinosaurs before you were three-I remember you pointing out a pachycephalasaurus to me once. I couldn't even pronounce it but you could. You loved to watch Thomas the Train...over and over and over. Your first day of Kindergarten was my initiation into the heartache of motherhood-you leapt onto the schoolbus with a backpack almost as big as you were and you didn't even look back. It was as if you'd been doing it every day of your life to that point. I burst into tears as the twins looked up at me perplexed by the sobbing.
The best thing about you though, Alex, is that you are beautiful inside and out. Every day I feel so lucky to be your mom. I am amazed at what an incredible young man you have become and how responsible you are. Your smile is a gift to my heart each and every time you flash it. I love how you still greet me at the door with a hug, and I treasure each one. Please don't ever stop being glad to see me. Even though I beg you to stop growing, and I tend to freak out when I realize you have hairy man legs, I'm thrilled that you are a smart, funny and handsome guy.
I will cheer you at every victory and I'll have your back when you need my support. I love you so much Alex, and I always will.