There is a little boy in this world who began his life within my body.
He turned six today.
I often think of the way his slippery little body looked as it squiggled into the world at my feet. Those are the times I go to his little mop of hair and whisper: I love you. My goodness, I love you, little man.
Sometimes I hope that I don’t break him with my jagged edges; my angry moments, my sad moments, my imperfect human moments—the ones I can’t hide no matter how hard I try. And he is six, so I hear all about the moments.
But none of them really matter because: love.
Mine for him, his for me.
He is six, today.
My baby blue-eyed boy is six.