Birthday Magic And All The Feelings

My boy, my Beckett, my littlest love,

Today you’re another year older.

Another day wiser, cuter, faster, taller, and 6 full years of pure miracle.

One day I will reminisce with you all about the challenges that you faced, from day one, coming into this world much too early.

When I’m braver, and stronger, and can squeak out a full sentence without joyfully sobbing, we will talk about the true miracle that your are, not just in breathing, and working, and loving through this life, but also in the way that you absolutely saved mine.

You saved my life simply by living yours.

By fighting right on past every obstacle thrown your way in your first several months of life, just as you do now, navigating through a world that often times attempts to squeeze you out.

In the few first days after you were born, I couldn’t yet walk into that NICU room.

I couldn’t bare to be wheeled in, in that wheelchair, helpless. Unable to touch you, or hold you, to heal you, or HELP you.
To see you there, struggling.
I just could not bare the thought of losing another child; the other half of my heart.

I couldn’t sit inside that NICU, and smell those familiar smells, see those familiar faces and machines, and hear those terrifying, all-too-familiar beeps and dings, and rushing footsteps.

In some crazy, inexplainable way, I thought if I stayed a few steps farther away from that room, from that door, from that hospital floor… if I took less photos, if I shared less info with family and friends, until you could come home, that I would somehow change the whole outcome for you, for the better;

Like that was the only “control” that I had over any of it.

I was convinced that if I rearranged the pieces on my end, that it would somehow surround you inside a bubble of pure positivity, so we would get to bring you home safe and sound.

And then your daddy said something I will never ever forget:

“Bri, you have to go and see our son. He needs you. You have to go and be with him, or you won’t bond, and you’ll regret that for the rest of your life.”

My heart stopped for what felt like an eternity. He was absolutely right.

I didn’t WANT to be away from you. EVER.
I was just so afraid, and carried so much guilt around, like a weight pulling me toward the ocean floor, for your abrupt, early, terrifying entrance into this world.

But as much as you may have needed me, I have always and WILL always need you more.

You saved my life with your beautiful existence, beautiful boy.

By showing me what true, unconditional love looks like.
By teaching me how we should ALL treat others.
By showing me that different is not less, and that it is indeed all the more beautiful.
And that no matter what we face, it is never too much, when we are together.

By being here, by giving me the gift of being your Mommy, you have given me the grandest, most inspiring, gorgeous purpose.
The key to everything i’ll ever need in this life; you.

A daily glimpse into your sunshine, and adventure, and the creative whirlwind that this life offers;
If we all just look up to notice it.

I could write everyday for the rest of my days, and it wouldn’t be enough, to describe the light and love you’ve given my life.
The very same sunshine you exude to every person you touch.

I’ll never dull your light. And I don’t think there’s any way anyone could.

And everyday since you took that first breath, my little miracle boy, you’ve saved my life.

Happy Birthday my sunshine.
I am so, so proud of everything you are. ❤

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I’m a Mama to a preemie miracle little boy, on the Autism spectrum. A loving wife of US Navy Veteran. A Blogger. A chaser of naps. And a lover of all things caffeinated.

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