Dear Justin, I’m sure you’re thinking:
“Why is my mom starting a post with Dear Justin?"
I'm sorry about that but NOT REALLY. It is my right to publicly adore you on your birthday, no matter how cheesy it may seem. So embrace the awkward “Mom” moment, it will be over soon.
Twenty-nine years ago, after nearly 8 hours of hard labor, you were born. I remember not knowing if I wanted to cry or if I wanted to laugh because there I was, holding this tiny little 7 lb. human that was now mine—AND I WAS SCARED.
Eventually, after all of your baby tests and newborn procedures, a nurse handed you to me. There I was with a newborn baby and I hadn’t a clue what to do. I didn’t know much about anything but I remember looking at you and I knew my life from that moment would be about you.
Thank you, Jesus, I said, something I STILL SAY TO THIS VERY DAY; this morning, as a matter of fact.
You are the light of my life. And your heart is filled with goodness, as it is big and strong. You are a leader, a fierce one. You are the perfect combination of cautious and carefree and serious and ridiculous. You are vocal and funny and sarcastic and witty and kind. You are compassionate and generous and loving. Intuitive and smart, you exceed.
I am crazy about all of the choices God made when He was creating you. And I am grateful to God for blessing me with a boy who would grow up to love, admire and respect his momma.
Whatever I, selfishly, cared about, before July 30, 1988, disappeared the day you were born.
By the Grace of God, we made it, 29.
Happy birthday my sweet boy.
No matter how old you get, I will shower you with love forever.