Lucas, you are six years old today! Six years ago we held you in our arms for the first time. You were tiny; only 6 pounds and 8 ounces. You had lots of dark, dark hair and a wrinkled up face and red skin. We dressed you in mismatched baby clothes—because you surprised us and we didn’t have all the new ones laundered yet. Somehow, we were so focused on the birthing, we forgot that at the end of it, we’d have a baby and a photo op. Somehow, you were both early (two and a half weeks) and late (productive actual labor didn’t start until 48 hours after my water broke). We danced you into this world; we tranced you into this world. When you arrived, you cracked open the sky and all the light of heaven flowed into my life.
This is not your birthday letter; I need more time to create that. This is just your birthday post, to say “Wow. We’ve made it so far!” Today was stormy, intense, wonderful, aggravating, and sweet, just as six promises to be. I’m looking forward to learning all the amazing and soul-splitting things you have to teach me this year.
Happy Birthday, Star Child. You are the whirl in my whirligig, and you’ve got me spinnin’ right ’round. I love you to the moon, all the way past Pluto, through the next hundred galaxies and back again.
