I was reminded yesterday of how I always used to say I wanted six children. It is but a hazy memory now, borne of times when I had more energy (and naivete), when I was moved by idyllic scenes of a table filled with grown-up versions of my extended family. And maybe (a very tentative maybe), if I could be guaranteed a birth experience unlike the last traumatic one, I might be open to convincing.

It has been two years since Harvey entered our lives. This season feels decidedly odd to me – to have come to this point without being pregnant again for the first time in almost eight years. We have left behind an era – those tumultuous and sweet moments of the newborn phase and the dawning of personality and independence in that second year.

I look at Harvey’s dimpled hands. Hear his mispronouncing of words (‘E-why’ for Eli, ‘storeberries’, ‘booberries’ – his favourite foods), his repeated phrases (‘stop it!’ ‘no touch!’ ‘watch Bluey?’ ‘wuv you, Mum’, ‘I have soda water?’). I breathe in his comforting scent, gaze deeply into those fathomless blue eyes. The painful tug threatens to overwhelm me at times as I reckon with the reality that this is it.

It is bittersweet. But there is beauty in the lingering finish.

I watch him join in ‘gang up tiggy’ with his cousins. Trailing after them with purpose, trying with determination to keep up. I see him boss around his siblings, confident that his fierce voice will bring them in line with his iron will. He is growing up, coming into his being, spreading his wings.

I treasure his sweetness. Smile at his undying affection for ‘Mingy’, his beloved soft toy. Rejoice in his inexplicable love for sleep and marvel at his requests to be taken to bed. His pure delight – still unblemished by any concern as to what others might think – is contagious and joy-sparking for all of us.

Over the weekend we celebrated his birthday many times – with both sides of the family, and with just the six of us. Harvey was lavished with presents and sweet delights, attention and enthusiastic cuddles. His understanding of birthdays has now solidified into a knowing excitement (although don’t even think about bringing balloons, as he will immediately tell you with great animation: ‘I scared of bawoons. Pop it.’)

Eight years of raising kids hasn’t necessarily made it any easier. We still make mistakes, get grumpy and lose perspective from time to time. But the lessons we have learned from each of our children have been priceless. From letting go of my identity rooted in motherhood, to capturing the wonder in the everyday, slowing down the pace of life to enjoy rest and reading, how to accept help graciously, learning about neuroplasticity and the incredible capabilities of the human brain – these lessons and so many others have changed us unquestionably for the better.

I may not have reached my lofty goal of six, but the reality of the family that is before me today is more than I could have ever hoped for. They are my ‘why’, the necessity that drives me to try my hardest each day, to invest in my own betterment and health, to face my demons and strive to be whole.

I am – in ever-increasing measures – grateful.

Happy birthday, Harvey!

…

Dear Harvey,

Your very presence causes my face to light up with delight. The way your head bobs up when I come home, your contagious excitement as you run to welcome me. You make my heart sing. I love your animated conversations and serious fascination. I love your uncanny mimicry – the way you burst out into fits of laughter if you hear anyone else chuckling. 

Your name means ‘warrior, strong, worthy, eager for battle’. Sometimes I think this is a little too accurate. You know exactly what you want and how to get it, and you definitely have no qualms about going for it. There is fire in your bones, focus in your eyes and power in your heart. Harness this well, my son. Use your gift for the good of others.

Cultivate your soft side – those melting moments of sweetness and connection. This balance will ground you, lift you up, keep you whole. 

We are so lucky to have you in our family, Harvey. What a brilliant star you are. I cannot wait to cheer you on as you emerge ever more fully, beaming and becoming the fantastically fierce light that glows brightly already.  

Love forever,

Mum