FIVE.
Oh, my sweet boy.
Where has the time gone? There were days, oh dear lord, there were DAYS that felt as if they dragged on forever. They were so hard and trying and I would count the seconds until your head hit the pillow and you would go to sleep. It felt as if you would always be little and always desperately need me constantly. It was hard. There was very little separation between us. We did everything together. It was draining and soul sucking and felt as if I would never again know myself or be myself or feel my own feelings.
But like everything in life, those days were not permanent. You'd change and grow and smile at me and laugh at me and you became this wonderful, sweet, strong boy.
When I look at you, I see all the struggle we endured to have you. The disappointments, the lost pregnancies, the pills, needles and counting the days. The places I shot up the hormones that would sustain you. In parking garages, in a Brooklyn bath house. How badly we fought to have you.
One time, while walking with a friend, they said, "there is a lot of intention in this child." Oh, how he was right!
You are strong willed and spirited. You know what you want. You know how you want it. You have no problem calling out unfairness or when the rules are not being followed. You love to make us laugh. You love to go on adventures, to play outside, to swim.
You are better and more than we ever could have dreamed. You are magic.
To me, 5 years feels like a big milestone. You won't get on a school bus for kindergarten for another year (Yeah. thanks for being 6 days late and 6 days past the school cut-off).
Five years. We have survived and thrived and blossomed and battled.
I love you, Zachary Francis. Forever. And ever.
Mama