Three Years...

It is a beautiful, sunny morning. The forecast calls for dry weather, sunshine and a temperature in the low 80s. In a few hours my parents will be arriving at our house, followed by my sister and her family and then some friends who live in the area and their children.

I hear the weather was incredibly humid three years ago. I wouldn't know since I was within hospital walls awaiting the arrival of my son. All I felt was a morning of contractions followed by a lazy and long painless afternoon, thanks to an epidural.

I can't believe it's been three years. I have experienced the most amazing feelings, emotions, and moments in becoming a mother. I have wanted to run away, pull out my hair, bottle up the love I feel, and gaze all night at a peacefully sleeping boy in his bed. I have been through smiles, tears, teething, the flu, potty training (still not 100% there), binky weaning, and so much more.

At the moment he is running around in his dinosaur costume from last Halloween, so excited that this afternoon he gets to eat "dinosaur cake" (which is really just ice cream cake with a picture of a dinosaur on it.)

I wish I had a camcorder to record all these moments because they fly by so quickly. We look at our pictures and small video clips from the digital camera on the computer and I just can't believe how much he's grown in the last year - even in the last few months. All of a sudden they change from helpless infant, crying for someone to meet their every need because they can't on their own...to independent preschool age, crying because they have fallen and scraped their knees because their small bodies can't keep up with the boundless energy and movement they have.

I knew none of these things as I sat in the hospital room. I knew nothing besides wanting to get through labor, wanting to see what this small boy inside me looked like. I knew not of how my heart would be trapped in his gaze, how a tiny memory or thought could make me fall to pieces as I remember his baby days, how happy I could be over the smallest things he does. I knew not of the intensity I would feel, wanting to fiercely protect him from the world.

And here he is. Three years old. Starting preschool in the fall, old enough for storytime at the library, switching from church nursery to the Explorers room where he will sing songs, hear stories, color pictures, and learn about the love of God.

He is fantastic, my son. He is challenging and independent, a force to be reckoned with. He is loving and sensitive, always ready with a hug and kiss or pat on the back for those hurting. He is dinosaurs and books, Go Diego Go! and flashlights, trucks and coloring all rolled into a handsome bouncing three year old. His life is a musical as he makes up songs about being in the bathtub, eating, playing outside, dancing in the living room, and having a baby sister. Just as he spins in circles faster and faster, the years of his life seem to be flying by like that to me.

Today the camera will be at the ready, waiting to capture what moments we can while he is still. Otherwise they're just a blur as he runs from one moment to the next, hungry to experience life as we scramble to keep up with his enthusiasm and excitement.

We love you Noah. We always will.