From the moment I first laid eyes on you, kissed your grumpy little face, I knew what true and unadulterated love felt like. I knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do to protect you, no length I wouldn’t go to make your life full and bright.

As I held you in the rocking chair at the hospital and cried tears of devastating devotion, I had no idea what that meant. I had no idea mothering you would leave me confused and conflicted in a million different ways. I had no idea raising you would challenge me and reconfigure my beliefs about who I was as a mother and a person.

How could I? Thirteen years ago, I couldn’t know you’d be wittier than most adults at age 3. I couldn’t know you’d be a discerning judge of character at age 4 and as serious as an old man by age 7. I didn’t know you’d be private and quiet in one moment and gregarious and charming in the next. I didn’t know you’d be inextricably sweet as sugar and stoic as a learned owl.

As you enter the teenage years I vividly remember, the ones I’d only just left when you were placed in my arms, I have to thank you in a million ways. Giving you life gave me purpose. Your birth clean-broke my soul, sprained and bruised by life before you, and reset it to heal proper. As your dad once told me: “Before you, life was in black in white. Now, it’s in amazing Technicolor.”

This morning thoughts of an adult Emerson floated through my mind. Will you get married and have children one day? Will you be a lawyer? A historian? Or maybe a barista by day and a jazz musician by night? Will you live in Kenosha? Chicago? Washington state? Will you call me to check in? Will you plop down on my couch on Sunday afternoons and feel at home?

Like I couldn’t have guessed what and who you’d be thirteen years ago, I can’t imagine what and who you’ll be in thirteen more. You’re entering years that will challenge and reconfigure who you are as a person and as a man, in ways I can’t begin to guess. What I know is that, above all else, you’ll be exactly who you’re supposed to be throughout. My only hope is that you will feel fulfilled by the journey and happy with the destination.

I am not the mom I thought I’d be thirteen years ago. You are not the child I thought you’d be thirteen years ago. We’re each so much more. Three dimensional people, real and perfectly flawed, saying things we shouldn’t, making questionable choices, but maneuvering through this crazy messy little thing called life with the only tool we need: true and unadulterated love.

To my first baby, my A1 since day 1: Welcome to the next level! Happy Birthday ❤