(posting this a few days late - we were overrun by pirates on his actual birthday)

To my Moondragon on his sixth birthday,

There is no possible way you can be six years old. It couldn't have been that long ago that your older siblings were talking to the Moonbaby in my belly. Wasn’t it just last year you were my baby-just-born, all 10lbs 14oz slipping peacefully into the world surrounded by your family? It must have been just last month that you were my cuddly 3-year-old, never far from my side, always snuggled against me wherever I sat, no? You couldn’t possibly now be reading and writing and having long conversations with people about paleontology and space exploration and how you’re going to combine the two one day to explore ancient creatures on distant planets. Nor could you be sought after by 2 three-year-old girls for your wisdom and knowledge and wonderful storytelling abilities. Looking into your still-round face, I can see that infant, that 3-year-old , but there is a maturity there that wasn’t there before. Your smile warms my heart in just the same way it did when you smiled for the first time, and the peace that radiates from your eyes will forever ground and comfort me.

You have taught me much, my Moondragon. You are the fourth child, the third boy, but in so many ways the first. The first baby whose sex we did not find out until birth; the first to be born at home; the first peaceful, painless, relaxing labor and birth. The first to have a totally laid-back personality and not care much about doing what anyone else was doing - including not speaking much until age 3 (but boy have you made up for it since!).  Through these firsts, you taught m the absolute beauty of labor and birth. You taught me to relax, and breathe, and let things happen in their own time. You helped me to let go of (at least some of) that sense of urgency that seems to be ever-present in my thoughts. You taught me the joy in a word, in a touch, in a breath, in a color. You taught me to embrace the moments between thinking and acting, to slow down and listen –really listen- to a person or the wind or the crickets or the silence.

You have stepped into Six with confidence, ready for the challenges and opportunities you’re sure Six will present to you. I wish you well on your journey, and am overjoyed that I get to go along with you! 


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