Happy Birthday, Jack!

You decided to come a week early. But once you made that decision, it took you 18 hours to come out and meet the world. And I’ve had trouble keeping up with you ever since.

I cried every day for the first three weeks after you were born. My body was adjusting to you being on the outside, as was my world. You had colic, and began crying at 2:00 in the afternoon and kept it up until after 10:00 pm every day for several weeks. The only way we could get you to stop for any period of time was to hold you and bounce you around while humming the Mexican Hat Dance.

I disappeared into a room every two hours to nurse you. NASA could launch shuttles by your internal clock. Even if you were sound asleep, you would wake up to eat exactly two hours after your last meal. And approximately 15 minutes after eating, you would barf half of that meal all over yourself and anyone standing within 3 feet of you.

You wouldn’t nap unless you were in my arms. That wasn’t such a bad thing. It forced me to lie down and rest with you. And you were the cuddliest little bundle that I had ever snuggled with.

Gradually, the colic left, the vomiting stopped, the sleeping improved, my emotions leveled out, and my happiness caught up with the love I felt for you the moment the nurse placed you in my arms on the day you were born.

You are smart, inquisitive, and analytical. Sometimes I am taken aback by the sheer knowledge within your brain. And I know that a lot of these things you just figure out on your own. You are a logical thinker and can sort things out.

You are very sensitive, guarding your feelings for fear of being hurt but pouring them out freely once you feel a person is worthy of that trust. All the kids like you, but you worry about being bullied or made fun of. You never break the rules, but are afraid of getting in trouble. Sometimes you laugh at your own sensitivity and fears, and you challenge yourself and try to come out of your shell. I could never do that when I was little, and I think you are very brave.

Your empathy for others goes much deeper than one would expect from a seven year old who has had such little life experience. I believe that comes from your sincere love of humanity and the endless well of kindness that exists in your heart.

You have a soaring imagination that allows you to create marvelous and sometimes dangerous boy adventures as well as quiet stories and detailed drawings that I am lucky enough to share in.

You are best friends with your dad. You love to giggle with him and talk to him and play sports with him. You still hug and give us both kisses in the hall at school, even though your friends may be watching. I think that won’t last, but maybe, because of who you are, it will.

To my first born, the love of my life and the sweetest boy that ever lived, I wish you a very happy seventh birthday.