Age 6.

This is a re-post of a note originally published on Facebook on January 24, 2010.  For the remainder of the big Countdown to 9!, I’ll be sharing what I shared on those actual birthdays.

This was entitled: a note for my son.

Dear Christofer,

Much to your father’s dismay, you proved to be much like you’re mommy from the very beginning. Your due date came and went; yes, you were late. I imagine you, like me, found a cozy spot to snuggle in and there was just no point in coming out. But alas, what is meant to be must be, and on January 23rd at around 7 in the morning when I woke up to liquid-stained sheets, I had a feeling you were ready to join us on the other side.

I called Daddy. Of course, he would have just arrived at work which was over an hour away. Seeing no point in rushing, I told him to stay put and I’d call him with updates. Man, I was feeling great! This labor stuff was easy. I took a shower, washed the sheets you dirtied (:P), and made calls.

At around 10 A.M., I started getting pains. Wow, this is it? No sweat! But within an hour, I realized this would be no leg wax. So I called Daddy and told him (well, probably yelled but hey, love records no wrongs) for him to get home immediately.

Called the doctor and headed there when Daddy arrived. 1 cm!? You mean this thing isn’t ready to come out!?!? I was told to go home and wait. Daddy and I grabbed some Wendy’s (natch). I could barely eat. We decided to head to the hospital. We checked in….hours later, still only 1 cm. And I was told to walk. I’m sure the words coming out of my mouth were not very nice, Tofer.

We decided to walk around, but after just a little bit of that I really, really (REALLY) could not take it anymore. We went back in. Did all the normal hospital stuff of hooking me up to an IV and machines. Yeah, my contractions were intense, but no other progress was being made. They decided to check me in.

I’ll fast forward through the boring parts. You know, like when your father drank cherry coke in front of me and I wanted to rip his eyes out. Or when your Daddy was sleeping like a baby (no pun intended) and I…..was not. No, no need to re-hash those details. (And just as a side note, Tof, while I’d never advocate drug use for YOU, if your future wife ever requests the epidural during labor [or, you know, a cup of vicodin with a splash of vodka], I beg of you–please oblige her!)

Well, multiple issues occurred and the end result was decided–you needed a little assistance in coming into this world. At this point, I wouldn’t have cared what they did–I just wanted those two days to be OVAH.

It was so cold, Tofer. I was a shivering beast. I was nervous, but knowing “This is it” was an amazing feeling. 1, 2…3–it’s a boy! Mommy and Daddy wanted it to be a surprise! But when Dr. Kim said that, I looked at your Daddy–“It’ a boy? It’s a boy?” I was beyond thrilled that my secret wish had come true–a healthy baby is all I ever wanted first, but a boy was the icing on the cake! They cleaned you up, and Daddy took you to show you off. At that moment, he took one of the three final names we had chosen for a boy and named you. He said he would know which one to pick when he saw you. And I now know too you could be nothing else but Christofer–Christ-Bearer.

The next six years have been a world-wind, little one. A good world-wind. You were sick on and off those first few months. I spent my first mother’s day in the ICU; no one had prepared me for that part of motherhood! But God’s grace and mercy is shown in different ways. Had I not gone through that, I would not realize how good He really is. Because months after of being this skinny, sickly baby, you were a chunk–a fat butterball of cuteness. Every milestone was all the more sweeter.

Tofer, it’s been great watching you develop. You’ve grown in leaps and bounds. You’re slowly coming out of your shyness shell. I see you becoming a true little man of God.

This morning we prayed–and I meant what I said, Tof. I pray that as you grow older you will realize your need for a Savior. I pray you will want to serve God all the days of your life. I pray health and protection over you. Any mother would pray no different.

I hope I can give you everything you need during your sixth (actually seventh) year. And not just the material things (though you like that very much). But I pray you will see me as a Godly woman and as someone you can talk to. You are my little buddy. And I know we’re not supposed to really be “friends” with our kids, but Tofer….you’ve really been on of my best these past few years.

I love you, little man. And your Daddy does too. And though life isn’t always grand, I know our little family is all we need.

I pray you have a sweet birthday. You’re going to have lots of parties, and I pray you will remember all the family and friends that love you sooo much.

But, Tof…they will never love you as much as I do.

Happy 6th birthday!



One thought on “Age 6.

  1. Pingback: Decade. | A Life Well Done

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