Dear M -
This month is national son's day, 2021. It's like mother's day and father's day (which are the big ones). There's also grandparents day and siblings day, which are lesser known. But this is the first year I have you, a son, to celebrate, on this less celebrated day.
You've changed absolutely everything for me. I knew that I wanted to be a mom, but I didn't really know what it would feel like. Not until the day I took a pregnancy test and saw two pink lines. Then suddenly my abstract desire was very real. And as I, like many other expecting moms, tracked what size you were week by week - you were my little grain of rice, then my little gummy bear, and so on. And as I thought about you, people asked if I wanted a boy or a girl - and mostly, I imagined a girl. Not that I "wanted" it, but that it was easier for me to imagine.
. A couple months later (about a year before I'm writing this, actually) I lay in the sonogram room and learned that you were a baby boy. A son. And I was surprised. I thought I didn't care, but when I knew you were a little boy, suddenly and briefly you felt strange to me, because not only am I not a boy, but you have seven aunties and only one uncle (not counting my brother-in-laws), so my experiences were almost all with baby girls. But then they moved to your heartbeat, which I had heard before and heard again, and you were back to being my baby instead of a stranger. Your Daddy was thrilled that you were a boy, and that made me excited. Knowing you were a boy made me think about your uncle Nat - when he was born, your grandpa was SO excited - and seeing daddy be excited for you, I understood a bit better why grandpa's heart longed for a son so much, and was so happy when Uncle Nat was born.
As we prepared for you, I kept wondering what it would be like when you were finally born. I started calling you "buddy" quietly and silently. When you'd kick me, I'd say "hey, buddy, mama doesn't like that". I painted your room a pale blue. Daddy and I discussed what to name you at length many, many times (we were all ready with a girl name but not one for a boy). I tried to wrap my head around what it would mean to have a son.
Then you were born. That was a big day, but that story I've written down in other places. I want to talk about not the day you were born, but two days later - the first day you peed on me. You had peed on daddy already, but I hadn't changed your diaper while we were in the hospital - Daddy handled all those early diapers because he wanted to learn and because he wanted me to rest. But now we were home, and Daddy needed to sleep, so I had gotten up to change you. You did what little boys do - you didn't do anything wrong - but I was again faced with the feeling of strangeness, a realization that "oh, right. He's different from me."
I'm sure I'll have those moments over and over as you continue to grow. I am prepared for you to change in ways I don't understand, for you to need Daddy to teach you things I just don't know. When we potty train you, when your face eventually gets hair, when your voice suddenly gets deep like your uncle Nat's did, and when you are inevitably taller than I am - all those will be moments where briefly, because you are a son, you'll be a stranger to me. But then, like you have already, you'll go back to being my baby.
Having you has changed how I read scriptures. I read about Sarah & Isaac, Hannah & Samuel, Elizabeth & John, Mary & Jesus - and I think of you, and I see these well known stories in new ways. Having you has changed how I think about my Popo, your Wai Po's mommy, and her relationship with Uncle Keith & Uncle Mike. Having you has helped me understand better how things are between your daddy and your Nana. There's a reason that #boymom is a trending thing - because moms of sons have shared experiences, and you've inducted me into that club.
I love you, baby boy. I always will. - Mama
