5 years/60 months/1825 days

Dear Henry,
Today you are FIVE. FIVE. Let me say that again - FIVE. This birthday of yours, this milestone has hit me particularly hard, in a way that none of your birthdays ever have - not even your first. It's probably because you are about to start kindergarten this August, and I am realizing that no, we can't just go to the aquarium when we feel like it on a random Friday because the school district attendance policy will frown on such absences. There's a major stage of your life about to end and a new one beginning that scares me, sends my mind to a place that I never knew I could go. Dooce said a lot of the things I'm thinking in her letter to her own 5 year old:

“I cannot wrap my head around the idea that you've been in our lives for five years, that seems impossible, wasn't it just yesterday that they yanked you out of my womb and placed you trembling onto my exhausted chest? I come back to that memory of you often, your right arm extended toward my face, the two of us meeting for the first time…

Your fifth year was by far the best yet, and not just because you are almost totally self-sufficient, although that does help quite a bit. There came a point in the last year when we felt like we were home free, like well, she can dress herself, pour her own cereal and read instructions, what's left for us to do? And now that you've got Wikipedia, do you really need two aging and out-of-touch busy bodies trying to guide you through life? Who's fact-checking the parents, am I right? It's like our only purpose now is to make sure you don't end up taking a job that requires the removal of your clothing, a job that could just as easily be accomplished by repeated viewings of E! True Hollywood Story. I'm thinking we're needed from here on out for the sole purpose of driving you to and from birthday parties…"

We exploded your entire world quite thoroughly in September when your sister arrived. You adapted so well and I’m not sure you really remember what life was like before Maria was born (and truthfully, neither do I). Your love for her is such a pleasure to observe and I sometimes feel like my heart is about to jump out of my chest when she smiles at something you’ve done. There’ll be times coming, probably as soon as she can walk and talk, when your now unconditional pure love for her will be adjusted as she breaks your toys, rips your books, and spits up on something of yours. Later she’ll want to tag along with you and your friends, and it’ll probably tick you off. I promise those hard times will not last. Treasure your sister, please.

Last night I told you the story of the day you were born and of how much you were wanted and waited for. You were mostly concerned about the sandwich your daddy had bought 5 minutes before they told me I was ready to push, the one he’d left on a windowsill outside the room – did someone else take it? Was it still there? I’m not surprised that this was your focus.

The other day when you were running from the end of the water slide back around to the beginning again, the freedom and joy on your face was so gorgeous. You have transformed in so many ways from the beginning - your shoulders have broadened, you have real hair on your legs, your baby belly has all but disappeared. THANK GOD your hands still have those little dimples instead of knuckles, otherwise I might not recognize you as the baby I birthed.

Son, you’ve brought your father and me so much joy, laughter, fatigue, exasperation, love, and fulfillment. You're so grown up, and we're so proud. Every time you call me Mom instead of Mommy it's a little catch in my heartbeat. Again, Dooce has said it better:

“You have changed so much since that first morning you spent with us, a morning that altered my life so drastically that sometimes it still feels like I'm catching my breath. I imagine that I won't ever stop feeling this way, won't ever stop having a portion of my brain dedicated to the thought of where you are and what you're doing, won't ever be able to escape the constant, nagging hope that you are happy and fulfilled. My pulse is forever closer to the surface of my neck because of you, because of my responsibility toward you, and I can't thank you enough for the dimension that this has added to what it means to be alive.”