An Open Letter My Son On His Birthday

Well, here it is - your 18th birthday and high school graduation, and, lucky you, born in the era of social media, you get to be wished well (and embarrassed) by your mom in front of the whole world. 

You're welcome. :)

I knew this day would come, but couldn't have predicted the speed with which it arrived. 18 years ago I almost lost you; in fact, the doctors thought I'd miscarried...all the signs were there. But there's an inexplicable bond between a mother and child - and I somehow felt that neither you, nor I, were willing to give up that easily, and 41 weeks later, you emerged a huge, healthy boy. 

Back then I imagined the ways you might change the world, what your voice might sound like, and how you'd look, but I didn't even begin to dream big enough. I worried about you, as every mother does; your intellectual curiosity led you to wander when you'd take interest in everything, literally into the path of a bus when no one was watching. You sank like a stone when I tried to teach you to swim. But you also were installing software games (at the DOS prompt) at the tender age of two, and eventually accomplishing things most mere mortals will never even attempt. Over time, you've grown from the tentative toddler living in his big sister's shadow, to highly capable and confident man of the house.

You likely have looked forward to this day for a long time - a day where you feel your independence is unquestionable. An age that labels you an "adult". A day where I’m supposed to let go and pat myself on the back for doing such a good job, while sending you off into the great unknown. 

Before you go, there are a few things you should know; I hope someday you’ll read this again with greater comprehension when your own child grows up right in front of your eyes, and you have to let go of that adorable chubby little hand, slowly at first...one small finger at a time...then all at once, with a swift invisible kick to the stomach. On that day, hopefully you’ll understand the depths of my unconditional love for you, and the mixed emotions of this very special day.

While sometimes you question my need to protect you, know that this same fierce nature ensured you were safe as you grew from helpless infant to the tall, strong, handsome young man you are now.

While you may be frustrated by the boundaries I've had to set, know that it’s taken twice the heartache and self-doubt to figure out how to do that, when it would have been easier to just let it go. I needed the courage of my convictions, even in the face of conflict, and without the support of another parent, and hope it would pay off and make you a better man when the time came.

If you feel that I'm impatient with you, just remember that I calmly, and with wonder, watched you go from a newborn unable to fend for yourself to eventually walking without my help, always letting you set the pace, and crawling beside you as you took your uncertain first steps.

While you may have been unhappy with some of my choices, know the effort and sacrifice it took to work long hours (ever guilty and missing you), and to be a disciplined saver to ensure your future to provide a comfortable and secure home. I hoped I'd serve as a role model for your future hard work, commitment, and fiscal responsibility.

While you might resent my strong-willed beliefs, understand that the same strength, tenacity, and determination helped me carry and deliver a 10 pound baby, as my mother lay dying, to rock you in my arms every time you were sick or afraid, and to get back on track, time after time, with every career setback.

When you wonder why I insist on keeping you so close, know that when you or your sister aren't with me, it feels like literally a part of my body has been amputated, and if not replaced soon, I just might just bleed out on the floor. Know that there are many disadvantaged children who would give everything for a parent who cares, and that my involvement in your affairs has afforded you safety, as well as amazing opportunities and adventures.

When you someday find the love of your life, know that it was when you fell asleep on my chest, lulled by the the sound of my heartbeat, that you first learned the meaning of unconditional love, and had I not loved you with the depth I have, you would be unable to love another woman with such fervor and respect.

While I may get on your nerves at times- trust me - someday you’ll wish you had just one more day with me.

I have been preparing you for years to leave my side, when I wanted nothing more than to keep you there...that is the tragic irony of motherhood. I have so many more things to say, but for now, just this: Your future is unlimited - choose wisely, and use your (considerable) powers for good. Don’t rush to be a grown-up -- just start by walking. I'll be there to catch you if you fall. 

All my love,

"Mother"