To my firstborn . . .
You are the first person I fell in love with long before I saw your face.
I kept imagining how my life would be like with you entering it and made many plans to prepare for your arrival. Yet nothing truly prepared me for the moment when I first held you in my arms.
It was a life-changing moment. I never knew I could love someone so deeply. Not even in the way I love your father.
As I held your tiny body against my chest, trembling with overwhelming emotions and amazed at this tiny life that just came out of my womb, I knew, without a doubt, I would do anything for you.
From that moment on, you always walk around with a part of my heart within you.
The first two weeks were painful, literally. My nipples cracked and bled. I suffered from mastitis which gave me fever and chills. Yet miraculously, the excruciating pain never stopped me from wanting to nurse you.
I had planned to breastfeed you, thinking that “breast is best” and nothing could stop me, not even the physical pain and fatigue.
All I knew was that God had given me strength. A kind of strength that I had never experienced before. A mother’s strength which stems from her deep love for her child.
This love, my child, will always follow you wherever you go.
No matter how quickly you grow, no matter where you venture, my love for you will always be with you.
That is a promise that I intend to keep.
You, my firstborn, are the first pride and joy of our little family.
You, my firstborn, have taught me love and sacrifice like no other.
You, my firstborn, have risen up to the huge responsibility of being the older brother when your younger brother came along. Even though you were only 20 months old, you were fully capable of love and tenderness towards your baby brother.
A few months later, you displayed a relentless series of tantrums day after day. It broke me. I experienced anger like never before. I was so overwhelmed with frustration at you. I tried different methods of discipline, yet nothing seemed to work.
But you weren’t being the terrible two that I thought you were. You were just a toddler who was upset that you had less of my attention. You were just really hurt that mommy seemed to be more concerned about your baby brother than you.
The truth is, you were not wrong. Your baby brother needed to be physically cared for in a way different from you. And I was too caught up that I neglected the deep mental and emotional dependence that you desired from me.
After all, you were only two years old.
You were forced to grow up a tad faster because we gave you a younger sibling. You never had a say, yet you willingly poured out your heart for your little brother. And you did it again for your little sister.
We are ever so thankful that God gave us you as our firstborn. We could not have asked for anyone more perfect than you are.
You are the most loving big brother, the most sensitive son, and the sweetest little man in my life.
You are happy to run into my arms when the school bell rings.
You love a cuddle and a kiss before you go to sleep.
You would call out to me in the middle of a play date just to tell me you love me.
Oh, my dear firstborn, I know, these moments are fleeting.
I am so proud of the sensible 6-year-old you have grown up to be. I cannot wait to see what great things you will achieve in the years ahead.
Yet I cannot help but miss your chubbier and cuter days . . .
The days when I cradled you in my arms.
The days when I sniffed your hair as you fell asleep on my chest.
The days when you gave me your toothless grin.
The days when you gnawed at my chin like a passionate little lover.
The days when you babbled “mah-mae” and got my heart fluttering.
You are growing up so quickly and you won’t remember much of these. One day you will leave the comfort of our home to venture and build a world of your own. But please know that wherever you go, my heart will go, too.
I love all three of you with all of my heart. Yet there is never a doubt that you have a special place, my firstborn.
And you always will.
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