For nine years, I've tried to formulate a coherent sentence about what April 3rd means to me. But instead, I just remember that girl who after an unimaginable period of staying home in her grief, finally ventured out to meet her best girlfriend thinking she was ready for the words. Instead, she could only put her head in her hands and cry.
That's was me.
Nine years later, that's still me.
So I'll try my very best to say it this way:
I love you. For so long before I heard about you, you were the child of my dreams. When I was little, I'd play dress ups with my dolls and I'd imagine you. When I was older, I'd think about what my life would be, and you were always in the vision of that "someday", When I met your dad and we'd lay around looking at the sky and talking about the beautiful dreams ahead - it was you that we were talking about. When our dream finally became a reality, with a whoop and a holler, the excitement was all yours.
And on April 3, 2008, you became the child of my dreams once more.
Every day that I breath on this earth will be in the memory of how a tiny little boy, who fit into the palm of my hand, changed it. I am your mother and you are my son.
Today, on your birthday, I close my eyes and think about the boy you would be. I envision you with blond hair and those darling deep dimples you got from your dad. I think about his beautiful brown eyes and how they would have also been your beautiful brown eyes. But from me, you would get your spunk - your spark - your spirit.
This is the year that I would have bought you your first pony. You are my Colt and at nine, this is the year I would teach you to fly...
So fly still my little son, and remember how much your mother loves you.