I Live You

The touch screen keyboard on my phone is my nemesis.  We have a love/hate relationship, and because of that you may at some point receive a text from me that looks something like this:  “How ark you?  Hoope eventhings ark o.j.!”  Fear not!  I am not drunk.  I just, apparently, have abnormally bulbous fingers that no mere touch screen can accommodate. 

My baby boy turned 10 today.  The reality that we are on the downside of these precious first 17 years that are wholly mine has hit me like a ton of bricks.  One of my common texting errors is my habit of telling others that I “live” them – darn these clumsy, sausage fingers.  This week with Coop’s looming “double digits” weighing heavy on my mind, I typed it yet again – I live you – for what was probably the 2000th time.  This time though, for whatever reason, I didn't immediately correct it.  I just stared at it there on the screen, "I live you".  And then it hit me . . .

1.26.15

Cooper,

I live you.  No, that’s no typo.  I’ve figured out what makes this letting you grow up thing so hard, and it’s all because I LIVE you.  Oh, I LOVE a lot of people – family members, friends, the bagger at Kroger who puts all of my cold things in the same bag together . . .   But you and Grace, you two, it goes beyond simply loving you – I live you.  We’re a team, you and I.  You grew IN MY BODY.  My DNA is in your every cell (as is evidenced by your brown eyes and love for bread products and all simple carbohydrates).  You are, sweet boy, a piece of my heart walking around outside of my body, and I live you.  The truth is that I have lived you from the moment you came into being.  The very thought of you filled an empty spot that I didn’t even know was there, and from that moment I dreamed of you and your wonderful, beautiful life.  I swallowed HUGE folic acid pills and vitamins so that your brain would develop perfectly; I didn’t color my hair; I held my breath around second-hand smoke; I DIDN’T DRINK CAFFINE – I lived you. 

And then, when you were finally here, I stood over your crib and obsessively watched your chest rise and fall.  Not even realizing that I was holding my own breath waiting for yours – I lived you.  I smelled your head and cried with the knowledge that it wouldn’t always smell that way and with the fear that I might forget how it smelled (I haven’t) – I lived you.   At each and every milestone I was there, your biggest cheerleader (don’t tell Daddy I said that).  And I have felt physical pain with each and every boo-boo.  And now, when friends are unkind or life disappoints you or you disappoint yourself, my heart hurts with yours.  And when you shine – and boy, Cooper, can you ever shine – sometimes I think my heart will just explode from being so completely proud.  You see, I live you.  We’re a team, you and I.

I still watch you sleep, and in those moments when you are still and beautiful and mine, I touch your face, and I pray just like I always have and just like I always will.  Asking Jesus to guard your precious heart and mind and to reign mightily over every cell of your body keeping you healthy and strong.  Cooper, He lives you too – even more than me.  You were His first. 

When we found out that you were a boy your Mimi repeatedly stressed to me the fact that you “have to raise boys differently than girls”.  She was right, but not in the way that she thought she was.  I won’t ever push you down and then rub dirt in your scraped knee because you are a boy and need to be tough.  I’ll help you up and hold you through the hurt because you are a boy and need to know that it’s o.k. to need comforting sometimes.  I won’t let you be reckless and wild because you are a boy and sometimes you just need to learn the hard way.  I’ll teach you to be cautious and reserved because you are a boy and these things don’t always come naturally.  I won’t tolerate you solely focusing on a girl’s outward appearance because you’re a boy and that’s just what boys do.  I’ll teach you to value women based on the content of their character and to treat their hearts tenderly, because you are a boy and somewhere out there is a little girl who is going to need you to know how to do that.  You won’t always like it, but I’ll make sure that I’m doing all that I can to make you the very best Cooper that you can be because today you’re a boy, you’re MY boy.  We’re a team, you and me, but one day far too soon someone else will capture your heart.  It breaks mine a little just to think about it, and yet I know that it’s exactly as it should be.  And I’ll be sure that you’re ready for her.  That’s my job, because I live you. 

This week we talked about decimals as we waited in car line, and then you kissed me before you got out to start your day.  I watched you as you hurried to the door, anxious to be the first Green Team member signed in so that you could get the best hallway.  But then it happened, despite your hurry.  It took mere seconds.  No one else noticed it, but I did.  You stopped at the door, held it open, and glanced over your shoulder to make sure there was no one behind you before letting the door swing closed.  That heart for others wouldn’t dare let it close on someone, wouldn’t dream of not holding it open for the next person.  “There he is!!”  “That’s my boy!!”  “That’s what I’m talking about!!”  You didn’t hear it, but your cheering section went WILD.  It just took a glance over your shoulder to make my heart swell.  Why?  Because I live you.  And when you shine, I feel it with every fiber of my being.

Happy, Happy Birthday, Sweet Boy!  How lucky I am to live you – every single precious moment of you.

More than you’ll ever know,

Mommy