my one and only

                                                                              (photo: june 23, 2009)

i used to think i owed you someone. someone else little to wrap your world around and fold into all of this with us. 
i used to believe it would be an injustice not to have a second child. 

i guilted and trembled at what you were missing. the cuddles and giggles and twenty little fingers wrapped around the same book on my lap. 
i cried that i had left you "alone" for so long, so far. i worried about your future. your socialization. 
i even convinced myself for awhile that we had to have another. for you.

now, i know how silly that was. how screwed up people are when they say things to me about "terrible and selfish only children" and "what if something happens to your child and you are left with nothing?" and "you wouldn't have any problems if he just had a sibling"...

it took me some time, but now i know who we are and what we have. in the three of us. i know how beautiful and complete we are. full and whole. i know what i would have (and had even started to) let go of and miss out on in adding to this. 

this less in number is more in everything else for us. 


and most importantly, this is inline with just what the Father has asked of me. and i'm not one bit sorry for taking heed and following His will for my life. 
i got exactly what we wanted, asked, begged, pleaded, hoped, prayed, and waited for.

i got you. 

and i'm overjoyed that you're mine!

every perfect beautiful thing about you. every moment. i have watched you. 

every new thing and every old thing you've made new. every thought and expression and word. 

one miracle after the next, my wildest dreams are wrapped inside of these days. 


all of our struggles. our past. our snuggles and giggles and fighting. all of your stomp offs and hit the walls. 
all of mine too. 

the way you gently walked me to repentance and redemption. our promise. 
the way you've made me so much better. for you.

all of the sunny days in hammocks, on the spiny thing at the park, hot lights, cold stone and fireside. 

the rainy under the covers, movie and popcorn, books and puzzles, laundry and puppy days...

through every single little thing i've ever done with you i've been more alive, in love and involved than ever in my life. 

you make everything worth more. 

especially me.

you are mine. 

when you wake up with your hair dried stuck to your face, all warm and soft, smelling a little bit like the baby i used to breathe in. 
when you vroom and zoom and tell a story in your playtime. 
when you show up out of no where to ask if i have time for some koodles... 
the expectant look on your face because you know we always have time for koodles.

when the mail comes and you light up at an envelope or package for you. 

when it nears 4pm and you start asking about your Daddy and when he's gonna get home.

when we crawl in your bed under yards and yards of cuts of your favorite fleece fabrics and we kiss, pray, and read. 
when you roll over and pass out like i'll always be right there.

you are mine. 

and i won't forget the nights when i rocked you, and we listened to the same cd over and over, night after night. 
humming and dancing and kissing. the chalkboard overhead that beckoned, "you will miss this", and the sweet soft baby hairs on top.

days out together and days with friends in tow. the moon, the pools, the walks, rides, parks, side by side on swings... 

things that we would have but didn't, and how just as well it turned out to be.

you are mine.
and the many more dreams i have about the three of us; 

basketball in the snow at night, high school football games on chilly bleacher benches, 
moon watching and homeschool projects, traveling, camping, beaching, exploring, 
learning, having, doing, making, planning, sharing, laughing, being... 
they are ours. 
Yours, mine and your Daddy's.






you are our one and only.
and we are only yours.

always.

love,

mom