Twenty-three years ago today, March 17th, and twenty-six years ago on March 25th, were two of the best days of my life. The day my boys were born were the days I learned what it means to love completely and unconditionally. Each day spent with my boys from that day forward has been a “best” day.
When my boys were born, I began writing in a journal for each of them, each entry a love letter, that they may never have a single doubt ever in their lifetime about how much they are loved. That they may never for a second doubt their worth. And still, though they’re no longer little boys, there are days when I feel the overwhelming need to express my love, my gratitude to them, and for them, in a love letter that will someday find its way to them.
Every day as mom to these two amazing young men has been a magical journey, one with the most joy and laughter and also the biggest tears. When they’re happy, my heart rejoices. When they’re sad, my heart breaks. I’ve never worried more and I’ve never laughed more. And I wouldn’t trade a single moment of any of those experiences for anything else in the world.
A phone call out of the blue, a random text, hearing their voices say “I Love You, Mom,” and reading and re-reading the cards their little hands have made for me over the years, is the gift that keeps on giving. Over and over and over. And never grows old.
So on the day they were born, the day they celebrate another year older, I celebrate another year of having the privilege of being their mother. Another year of “best” days.