Dear Jack,

Today you are three years old. Well, you will be in about 40 minutes. This time three years ago, I was being prepped for surgery after two very long days of battling against nature to bring you into the world. Mothering you all these three years and dulled some of the pain of that moment three years ago, but it changed me. Just like so many other things have changed me since I met you.

I watched you sleep earlier this evening, and I was struck by how long you are, from head to toe. Year three didn't bring much actual growth. You're a little taller and heavier, but you slowed down. Still, you're this kid now, no longer a baby in any way that I can see until you sleep. Your drowsy eyes and little fists remind me of all those nights seeing you sleep as a little one. You're still my baby, then. I know you always will be, in some way. I hope that I'll still catch of glimpse of the baby you were as you grow.

Over the last couple of weeks, we've been displaced to a hotel while some unexpected repairs happen at our house. You were beyond excited at first, literally bouncing off the beds and walls. You have an entourage of hotel staff and fellow guests who brighten when you come down the hall. You love to press the buttons on the elevator and get very upset if we forget that is your job. You took all the changes in stride for a few days, but soon you started asking for your own bed, for your house. When we left home a couple of days ago, you cried and cried saying, "I just want to hug my house! I just want to hug my house!" As trying as these days have been for me, I think they must be even more so for you. I'm proud of you for soldiering on. We'll make it through and our homecoming will be so sweet.

This morning you marched into the room where Daddy was sleeping and announced, "Yesterday I was two! Today, I'm FREE!" You have been so excited about your birthday, but tonight as we snuggled at bedtime, you asked where your "two" went. I tried to tell you that is was part of you, inside. You didn't like that so much, so we decided that you let your two float up to the sky like a balloon.

I've loved to see your face as people have given you birthday presents over the last two days. You awoke this morning as Superman, and went to bed as Batman, with a Captain America shield and a Darth Vader mask. This obsession is all encompassing. We've come short of letting you watch cartoons, though you've seen a few clips of the cheesy 1968 Batman cartoon and you beg to watch it every day. It's not going to hurt you. I keep repeating that to myself. I read a book recently that helped me realize that well-meaning, loving parents have to try a lot harder to screw up their kids than media and advertising lead us to believe. So, if you're reading this from prison, it's not because you watched Batman cartoons, or drank a lot of free-from-the-lobby sugary lemonade. Parenting you well doesn't have to take place at home with our normal routines. Still, I look forward to playing in our backyard, working in our garden, and reading books on our couch.

You won't remember this time of your life, so I'll just let you know that a lot of people who love you have come together to help us during this time, and it made the difference in pulling off your birthday party and getting our house back to normal. There are times in life when for various reasons, you will need to be reminded of how much you are loved. I hope you can read these letters and feel that someday. However much you think you were loved the day you turned three, multiply it by a thousand. It's not just me and your dad. You're loved by so many people. How blessed you are.

Two days ago, you sat on my lap in a chair at the hotel and said, "You know what makes me happy?"

"What?" I said.

"You."

Thanks for healing all the wounds my heart ever felt. Hyperbole? I'm not sure. It felt that way. When you're stubborn, mean, embarrassing, dramatic (and you are all of these), I know that you feel safe and loved with your family and that is what matters. You love in a big, quiet way.

I'm so proud of you, Jack. I'm excited to find out what this year will hold.

Mama

p.s.
You know what makes me happy?

You.