Happy Birthday Drea!

Happy Birthday To ME!

35 years old. 

I am 35 years old today.  That’s 420 months. I laugh every time I say that.  My son’s God Father  is probably getting a kick out of that number. 420! HA!

Today, Cannon Wynn is 3 months old.  I nearly cry every time I say that.

On this day last year I was I was sitting on this same bed with my laptop and a huge grin on my face. I’d started a new journey that I was aware of and was having a fabulous time doing it. Little, did I know that journey was two fold. That in a few weeks I would be starting a second leg.

I’ll  write out my BFP story later.  Right now I’ll share with you a tradition that I’ve done for myself and my readers for the last nearly  ten (10) years: a letter to myself on my birthday.

This year its not just a letter to me, but a letter to my son.

Dear Cannon Wynn,

This time last year I was  sitting here on this bed writing a letter to myself about how I understood that maybe motherhood might not be in the cards for me and how I would just enjoy the things in life I did have.

Little did I know that the universe was conspiring to send you to Daddy and I.

Truth be told you were the last thing on my mind. Daddy and I had decided that we were done trying to have you. Well, I had decided that. Daddy said “ meh, let the chips fall where they may.”

Me, I was tired. I’d given up. I was ready to focus on just living instead of calendars and schedules and drugs and timing.

Truth be told I was having the time of my life.

But I still longed for you. I just didn’t lament out loud about it anymore.

It’s  almost hard to believe that you’re here let alone that today you’re three months old.  In your short little life time a million changes have taken place.  I’ve lived an entire life while waiting for you to “bake” and then once you were out of the oven my world tilted arse over tits again and again and again.

I was woefully unprepared for the changes life would take. Somethings that left are deeply missed. The wounds from loosing those things might never heal. But you are the antidote. The salve. You are everything, little boy. The sun, The moon and the stars.  You are my whole darn milky way.

Three months seems like a life time and yet it hasn’t been very long at all. You’ve grown and changed so much!  From a  little string bean of a thing that barely filled daddy’s hands to a chunky lil’ hunk that has me huffing “ok, I need a second set of arms.”

You are the best birthday gift ever.

Love, Mommy

Dear Dréa

Girl, WTF?

I mean really.  JUST WTF?

This is not what I meant last year when I said just do it. Okay. I am just saying I mean…oh, hell girl you done did it now!

Its okay, you have wanted this forever. Now its here and its bigger than you ever thought it could be.  Compound that by all that went on in the last 12 months. CHILD, you do it big when you do it don’t you.

Listen, don’t be scared. You can do this. It might not be the way you planned it. It might not fit the fantasy you’d dreamed of. But this…you were born for this. It’s not all of you but it is you. And no one can do it for you. Nor can the do it with the style, grace, and shenanigantry that you can.

I take that back, be scared.  Be afraid.  BE BRAVE. He is watching you. Teach him. Show him. How to think and live and explore and love.

You got this.

But don’t forget to be you. And to live for you. That’s the thing. If you stop living for yourself he is going to learn that, too.  Don’t get so lost in him that you don’t remember what its like to get lost in you.  He is going to learn how to follow is dreams and his heart from watching you follow yours.

Teach him that it is okay to mess up. GO WRONG STRONG.

Teach him to live with enthusiasm and compassion.

And while you’re teaching him it can be a reminder to yourself.

As for that lil’ lump of chunky goodness that takes up all of the bed. Hold on to these memories. Someone is missing them. You get them all. Take it all in.  Don’t stop taking pictures and videos. You’ll inevitably look back and see something you forgot or didn’t notice in the moment.

It’s okay to be that mom. It’s okay not to be that mom. You’re okay and he is okay and everything is beyond ok…even when it’s not. It’s perfectly not perfect.

Boy this year…this year.  So many highs and so many lows. But don’t fret.  The things that cut you deep only hurt because you where honest and open and free.  It’s proof that you lived. That you loved. And that you were loved.

All of those things will happen again and again and again. Stay open. Stay ready. Stay.

It would be so much easier to lay it down and walk away. But you are made of staying parts.  You knew when to walk away from the things that weren’t good for you. Sometimes you held on when you shouldn’t have, but you learned from that.

You are no Rose my dear. You know damn good and well that there is room on the door and you also know that you would dog paddle like a mofo to save not just yourself but your loves.

Speaking of loves. I know you feel how you’re feeling.  Just feel. It’s ok. You know it will be ok. You know all the things that others will say. It’s tough being on this side of it, but you will get there.  Stay open. 

It’s okay to float for a while but don’t forget to swim, even if it’s against the tide.

Call your husband and just breathe.  Just exist.  Sometimes that’s just as important as living.  There isn’t anything wrong with surviving.

Welcome to 35.  Do more of what you did at 34. It was fun and you deserved it all.  Send your love and wish out to the universe and watch it provide.

Love Yourself.