156 weeks ago today...

Dear Jackson,

On your one week birthday, at 1:40 in the afternoon, and every week after that for many, many weeks, I would hold you in my arms in the rocking chair in your room, and with tears in my eyes, this is what I'd say:

"You were born on a beautiful Valentine's Day, probably the most perfect Valentine's Day ever-the sun was shining, not a cloud in sight, and I could feel the warmth even from inside the hospital room. We had waited so long to meet you, but those last couple hours flew by. And there you were, and our lives changed forever. Dad was so sure you were a girl, but I hoped in my heart you were a boy; I hoped that you were my Jackson. From the minute I knew you were growing inside of me, I loved you from the top of your head to the tips of your toes. And on that day, and every day since, I thank God that you're mine. You're my favorite boy in the whole world, and you always will be. And even when I'm long gone, you'll always be my baby boy, who I love with all my heart."

Weeks turned to months, months to years, and now here you are, already 3 years old. The rocking chair is long gone, but that's ok. You're not too big to climb into my lap, and when you do, this is what I'll say:

This is what I'll think of when I remember you at 3-you tell knock knock jokes and then laugh at your own punchline. You change your mind about everything 100 times a day. You love to cuddle and Eskimo kiss. You define people by their likes and dislikes (Mom likes to cuddle, Dad doesn't like Diego yogurt). You love my ponytail. You pretend to make lists for the grocery store like Mom and shout out "Check!" when you've done things on your list. You're so smart it sometimes blows my mind; the things you remember and learn every day amazes me. You told me one day you had a twohead, not a forehead; I don't think I've ever laughed so hard. You're a total quizmaster, always asking question after question. You idle on about 7.5 (on a good day). You have a temper and love the word no. When you get mad or sad, you let it all hang out, and that's good. You love hamburgers, trains, running around outside and playing in the sandbox, and your baby sister (the feeling is way mutual). You've never met a stranger. You actually said "how you doing" to a little girl the other day while we were out shopping-my little Joey Tribbiani in training. You love love love to read. You love with all your heart. And I hope you never, ever change. Thank you for being my baby, my first baby, my son.

Jackson, always know that you're special and unique and can do anything you put your mind to-and that you are always, always loved. Happy birthday Buddy.

Love, Mom