12 years ago, I wondered if I could love him enough. Up until the moment he was born, through the kicks of 42 weeks, through monthly, weekly visits to listen for heart beats, while preparing for a baby to arrive, my heart ached for this child who I didn't know if I could love as much as my first. I didn't know how it could be possible, how my mother's heart could stretch, how two children can bring happiness and joy in different ways, I didn't know how different each child is, or how a momma's love can spread like the rays' of the sun.
Then he was born and the overwhelming, fierce, protective, all-comsuming love filled me, overtaking me and I knew that this could be done. That loving children, no matter the number, or the order was a gift that God gave parents. I knew this job as a Momma was one I most definitely wanted, to fill my heart with so many sweet loves.
My sweet, precious, easy-going second child, has filled our family and our hearts, causing us to barely remember a time when he wasn't with us.
Yesterday he woke and up to his "golden birthday," he turned 12 on the 12th. His last year before he becomes a young man. His growing year, his learning year.
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