THREE

Dear Arthur, 

You are three. 

The last time I wrote about you here, you were three months. I know it’s just a number, but the mirroring seems significant.

When you were three months, I was drowning. Existing on four or five broken hours of sleep a night, nursing you and nursing you and never seeing enough in that number on the scale. I could not birth you, I could not feed you, I could not return to work. 

Not enough, not enough, not enough. 

At three years, you and I are both thriving, in our own and different ways. 

You are hard to keep up with, impossible to ignore. You laugh early and often. You offer help when you aren’t sure how. You live a big life in a world where it can be so easy to live small. I pray you never learn that from me, smallness. 

Your sister is now three months, and this time, I know I am enough.

I learned it from you. 

Love,
Mom