My 9-year-old boy...seriously, is that even possible? I started this blog years ago when I was struggling with infertility and desperately wanted to be a mom. And then- voila (okay, not exactly voila; more like months of tears, hormones, and injectable medications)- along you came! Now you are a boy-- not a baby, not a toddler, not a preschooler, not even a little boy-- but a boy. And oh, how I love the boy you've become.
You are so like me in so many ways. You're a little anxious, slow to warm up around new people, and you worry about things more than you should. Yet you're also so like your dad; you've got the same long, lanky legs; the same ability to eat whatever you want and not gain an ounce; and the same obsession with sports-- particularly baseball and hockey. And then, in many ways, you're just you. You make friends easily. You're an excellent student. You can entertain yourself for hours just by being outside, lost in your imaginary world of sports tournaments. You hate kisses, but you freely give hugs. You're a gifted, creative writer; maybe one day, Cheeseburger the Cop will be on bookstore shelves.
My sweet Camden Miller, I love you more than I could ever adequately express in simple words. I hope you always know how special you are-- not simply because you were our much anticipated first child, but because you're so uniquely you.
Love,
Mommy
