St. Patrick’s Day is just around the corner, and the stores are filled with shamrocks, leprechauns, and “luck o’ the Irish” apparel. It got me thinking, I don’t need the luck of the Irish. My kids make me lucky every day.
How lucky am I to have carried you so close to my heart for so many months? With each passing week, you developed a little more, grew a little bigger, and became a bigger piece of me than I could have imagined. When at last you were born, you brought a piece of my heart out into this world with you, and you will carry it always. After feeling you kick and squirm for months, I witnessed your debut and heard you cry for the first time, all gargled as you cleared your lungs. How lucky am I that you were placed in my arms? You looked up at me like you had chosen me long ago and were finally home.
How lucky am I to have spent countless hours holding you close as I rocked and whispered my love to you? Sure, the nights were sometimes long, and my eyes were often heavy with sleep, but when would I ever get to hold pure love in my arms again, tucked so neatly in a blanket of blue? Your warm, soft body fit just right for such a short while, and I am so lucky to have experienced those days.
How lucky am I to have seen your first smile? To have heard your first word? To watch you crawl, then stand, and finally take your first step? I’ve been with you every step of the way, growing right alongside you. We are in this together, you and me. We’ve played for hours – peek-a-boo, pat-a-cake, and hide and seek. You’ve smiled at me a million times, and you’ve made me smile a million more.
How lucky am I to have watched you transform from baby to boy to young man? Right before my eyes, you’ve grown, and yet even as I look at you, I can’t see you growing. It’s sort of magical, really. The changes are so very subtle from one day to the next but suddenly you stand up and you’re two inches taller and looking less and less like a little boy. Oh how I wish you still fit just right in my arms again, but how lucky am I to watch you grow?
How lucky am I to have your arms thrown around my waist? “Mommy, girl,” you say as you embrace me with such force you nearly knock me right down. I love that you call me ‘mommy girl.’ “I love you too much!” you say with a voice that sounds more grown up than I’m used to. I love you too, so very much.
How lucky am I to share this life with people I love? To share moments and make memories? To laugh and play and love so fiercely? Having kids has made me lucky, maybe the luckiest in the whole world. To love and to be loved is about as lucky as we can get.