I’m coming down from the sugar high of the Avengers cake we ate for Jackson’s 4th birthday this weekend, and it’s settling in more deeply that my little boy is growing up. Birthdays, I’m sure, have an extra dose of sappy nostalgia for the mothers that actually did the birthing. And this year, I’m just on the brink of doing it again, bringing another baby boy into this world to love, protect, and care for. I couldn’t help but dig around and find some memories captured of my firstborn celebrated each summer, marveling not only at how much he grows and changes annually, but how much our family changes right along with him.
Age 0, the day of birth:
1, the age of animals:
2, the age of dinosaurs:
3, the age of pirates and knights:
And 4, the age of the Superheroes…
Jack’s celebrations have all been spectacular thanks to the people that God must have hand-picked to be in our lives. And it’s such a wonderful feeling to know that the past four years have challenged and shaped us into readiness to do it all over again. For so long, I never thought I could undertake another pregnancy, but as I sliced through Jack’s cake, his brother moved so rapidly in my tummy that the piece went crooked due to my surprise. Our little family is ready to expand to welcome this new little man, and I’m sure this one will enthrall me just as much as his older brother does everyday.
To be honest, I’ve never really been more proud of myself. When I stop comparing myself to my dozens of inspiring mom-friends who have three or four children and balance their lives with more grace and ease than I seem to*, I can see how much growth has truly taken place in my life thanks to the challenge, responsibility, and joy it has been raising Jackson so far. I trust myself to start over, to shape another little life toward the Savior who loaned him to me. I have enough support and security than I ever have before, and I think I may even be strong enough to conquer diapers, feedings, tiredness, and even the terrible twos. I am ready. Which is good timing considering my doctor is telling me this little brother of Jack’s could be here within weeks.
It’s taken me a long time to get here, and with every heavy thump and jump of my belly, I grow more eager to add to the crazy clan of Bishop boys, welcoming with an open mother-heart another son. I can only hope I love the second one as much as I do my first.
Happy 4th Birthday, Jackson. I adore you.
All my love,
*Yes, I do realize this never ends up being true, and comparison is motherhood’s greatest enemy. But it’s an easy trap, and I still get caught in it.