He stands at home plate swinging a bat and my mind flashes back to a little blond two-year-old in the backyard.
“You pitch-it, Daddy. I hit-it.”
His teacher tells me she is choosing a character trait for each child in the class for an end of the year honoring ceremony, and she can’t choose just one for him.
My eyes brim with tears at her words of praise for this boy of mine.
This morning he asks for orange soda for breakfast. When I say soda is not a morning beverage option, his eyes twinkle and he teases me back:
“When I move out, I’m having soda for breakfast.”
Oh, son, must we talk of that so soon?
How does motherhood do this to you? How does it roll up your heart and pack it away into a child?
All at the same time in my mind he is a newborn with knowing eyes that look straight into your soul, a toddler charming his way out of trouble when caught red-handed, a kindergartner learning to ride a bike, and a boy who delights in the fact that he has grown so tall he is at my shoulder.
These first-born children, they come to us and make us mamas. And we are never the same again.
We test out the advice in the books on them. We long to do everything right by them. They in turn long to do everything right by us.
Rules and rights; these are the hallmarks of parenting when we are starting out, forging our way through this strange new territory. The younger siblings follow along and we hold them so much more loosely; we have been here before and learned that everything will be okay.
Dear first-born son, you have taught me that everything will be okay. In fact, loving you has taught me that it will all be more than okay. It will all be shine with love, like your smile shines at me after you hit a triple, like our faces shine when we trade gifts on Christmas morning, and like my eyes shine at you when you trust me with your heart.
Loving a first-born is a glorious adventure in trusting God, a humble quest to learn to love one of God’s children.
I sit and imagine him through all the years past, holding close the days we have now, and treasuring the years to come. This is child is born of my body, cradled in my heart, and will one day be sent by my God to be and do what only he is able to.
I can see him there, all grown up and (apparently) drinking soda for breakfast, with a child of his own. He will learn the love of a parent and I will learn the love of a grandparent, our hearts still tied to each other, but now in new ways to another child.
The adventure will deepen and continue for us. I will never be done loving this first-born of mine, or finished with thanking God for every moment we have.
