This boy of mine

I remember the first moment that I saw Jeffrey. It wasn't the fairytale moment that I had dreamed of, the instant bond between mother and child, basking in the perfection of every little detail of my newborn babe. Rather, I was fixated on this gooey creature the doctor placed on my chest that more closely resembled Yoda than anything actually human. I was a little worried. Granted I had been in labor for an entire day and was heavily drugged, but he was not the beatiful babe I had imagined him to be. Was it natural for his head to look like a traffic cone... really? Would his eyes always be so, well, buggy? What was wrong with me? Mothers weren't suppose to feel this way about their children. I was not off to a good start.

Luckily, my little Yoda just needed to recover a bit. Turns out labor had been pretty rough on him too, who knew? An hour later, goo free with a cute little striped cap on his head, they handed me my boy and I fell in love. He was the most perfect thing I had ever seen. And, although I am cleary biased, I think he has been perfect at every stage. He was the most beautiful baby, huge blue eyes, milky white skin, the most charming smile. He was an equally beautiful toddler. Blonde curls, even bigger blue eyes, nobody could resist him. Especially his momma. And 6 years later I still can't. He is so absolutely perfect to me. Every little feature, down to the last freckle.

But it goes beyond that. Part of the charm is how comfortable he is in his own skin. Not one ounce of self consciousness, perfectly happy and content with who he is. Such a great quality. I'm glad that life hasn't changed that about him yet, it may someday. But for today, I love who he is. I love that he loves who he is. This beautiful boy of mine.