Today, my baby, who is now really my middle child (as of 7 weeks ago), turns 4.
My little Phoenix Leo.
A name that absolutely demands strength.
A boy who’s body betrays him. Weak muscles and plagued with fatigue.
But that’s the only weak thing about him.
This boy is fierce. He is strong willed. He is passionate and emotional and he loves so, so strongly.
Forever will he be known as my “sweet boy”. A nickname second only to my stinky boy.
As parents, we’re not allowed to have favorites. And I don’t.
But there are few days that go by where this little boy doesn’t do something special to heal my heart in ways that I didn’t know needed healing.
Phoenix has done something for me that no one else ever has. He loves big. He loves his momma the biggest.
I’ve never known unconditional love until he showed me what that meant. He was not my first child. Or my second.
But he has something magical about him. And boy, does he make me proud.
Every birthday comes with a bit of grief. But there’s no room for that when he’s around.
Today, he’ll spend his birthday in therapy, like he does every other day. He’ll spend it with the ones who love him the biggest.
Today, 3 turns 4. And to be honest, it hurts quite a bit. When you wonder how many birthdays you’ll have left with your child, each passing year feels like a double edged sword.
Today he looks up at me with his long curly hair and goofy smile and says, in the most genuine way, happy birthday mommy. Like he’s including me in his special day.
Last night as I was putting him to bed, he called me back into his room, just to whisper that he loves me, and to get another hug.
I’m honored to be his mom. And I’ll be forever grateful that he’s mine.
Happy birthday, my sweet boy.
