I didn’t know I wanted to be a mother.

I had never been a babysitting type, I didn’t “oooh and ahh” over babies, nor did I rush to hold them.

I had nieces and nephews and taught school. While I called them all my “babies”, I knew that was different. At the end of the day, they all went home.

I considered myself to be fiercely independent, majorly selfish, and honestly, I was afraid of the whole motherhood thing – how it would alter me.

Then, six years ago, on November 20, this little boy entered the world and did just that. Altered me.

I learned that I could just look into the eyes of a child and melt.

I discovered that I could be so overwhelmed with gratitude that I would burst into tears as I rocked a baby at 2 o’clock in the morning.

I have learned that I would pray, and pray and pray again, because that is sometimes the only thing that calms my heart.

I have determined how helpless I really am when it comes to raising children “right”.

 

I have discovered I am willing to give up far more of myself than I ever thought possible and somehow still consider that a gift.

I have laughed until tears stream down at antics, comments, jokes, and mistakes.

My life has been completely altered, and, I am grateful for it all.

 

On this, the anniversary of my sixth year as a mother,

I sing Happy Birthday to the one who started it all.

To my ever growing, ever learning, attentive, thoughtful, curious, scientific, fun-loving, wordsmith of big boy, Enoch, Happy birthday sweet boy. I’m glad I’m your momma, and grateful God gave you to us! No more 5, now you’re 6!