There’s nothing quite like the power of an afternoon spent visiting the past. Every now and then the kids beg us to show them videos from when they were younger. We scroll through the endless selection, travelling back to moments all but forgotten, exclaiming over cute expressions and plump cheeks, and noticing how each child was unashamedly ‘themselves’ from the very beginning.

Except for Hudson.

With a first year marred by health problems and restless sleep, he took a while to emerge into the person that we know now. Revisiting that fateful period of time stirs up some painful memories for me – a sense of desperation, hopelessness, shame. I wasn’t the mother I wanted to be – the relentless experience breaking me in places I didn’t realise could be wounded. I took his constant cries and screaming personally- an unequivocal assessment of my worth. Feeding him offered the only break in the soundtrack of misery. I brandished a laden spoon at every chance I got.

After an operation to fix an inguinal hernia just before he turned one, Hudson shifted into a different person overnight. The day he was released from surgery, even with stitches still healing, I remember watching in amazement as he crawled around happily on the floor and actually smiled. ‘Who is this strange creature?’ I wondered, having assumed that the misery of the first year was simply a feature of Hudson’s personality.

I couldn’t have been more wrong.

Hudson is the most resilient and cheerful boy I know. He wakes up in seconds, rubbing his eyes and making a bee line towards us for an enthusiastic bear hug. A punishment for this kid is telling him he has to spend time by himself – an excruciating concept for the boy who relishes being around others, who rearranges himself to keep his friends and siblings happy, and whose smile is always a heartbeat away.

Hudson is full-bodied in his approach to life – launching himself into friendships, sport and sibling wrestling matches with gusto. Even changing schools this year in the middle of a pandemic failed to faze him – he quickly made himself known around the place with his cheerful and cheeky nature, and adjusted to the new rhythms with ease.

This year we noticed a huge growth in his learning. He went from being slightly behind (after needing assistance from the NDIS prior to school in order to catch up in areas of speech, literacy and gross motor skills), to now writing imaginative chapter books and throwing himself into any footy game he can find. Hudson is obsessed with computers and headphones, coding and music – and we constantly receive emails and hangouts messages with attached slide shows that he has created with a request to ‘give a thumbs up if you like it’.

Visiting ‘the past’ reveals clues of the boy he would become – determined, fun-loving, cheeky. I watch as his smaller self wields a microphone with gusto, enthusiastically joins in any available game, takes any chance to sneak in a cuddle of his newborn siblings. Life has always been an adventure for Hudson and he has never failed to take hold of the chance for fun.

Having a New Year’s Day birthday is the best way to celebrate another year, although it always means I’m more focused on wrapping presents and putting the finishing touches on the cake than participating in any countdown. When Hudson awoke, exceedingly excited, there were balloons scattered (in Richmond colours, of course), presents to open and a day of fun at TimeZone planned by Dave. Both sets of grandparents came to dinner, to share Hudson’s favourite dishes – Baba’s chicken lasagna and mud cake.

Birthdays are a culmination of memories, a portal back into the past and a slingshot into a myriad of futures. They provide a chance to zoom in and out at the same time, to appreciate the child that has been gifted to us, and to marvel at the ways in which they are completely unique.

Being a parent is a profound privilege that is scarcely realised in the moment. It is often only in the looking back that we can attempt to grasp the magic of what is happening – the aching cuteness that was all but taken for granted in our sleep-deprived haze of existence. The choice to make way for the new generation – a front row seat into the mysterious wonder of human nature. An opportunity to lay down the tracks to enable flourishing. An invitation to show up to do our own work.

While it hasn’t been all sunshine and slow-motion, I’m grateful for the moments that have led to this point. Eight memorable years of Hudson. What a ride it has been.

…

Dear Hudson,

You are warmth and sunlight, the current of a surging river. I wonder at your strength and tenacity, your buoyancy in the face of any challenge.

I love your obsession with planning – with diaries and calendars, notes and presentations. You love to think about what is coming, looking out for what you might need to achieve maximum meaning and fun. I love your slide shows, your letters, your notes pinned to the wall. Who knows where this interesting combination of skills will take you, but I cannot help but imagine you have the potential to transform the world.

You love to be near people. It’s your greatest gift…and the cause for more than a few issues as you nudge just that bit too close for comfort, or unwittingly wander into a sibling minefield. You want to be a part of everything, often peering over our shoulders to see what’s on the screen or hovering near to wherever there’s any action. Bringing people together and creating fun is a particular talent of yours (even if it does drive us crazy sometimes!).

I’m enjoying watching your sense of humour and timing develop. Your increasingly creative (and invented) words that you toss into the conversation, the transition from slapstick comedy into banter. You love to make people laugh and I have no doubt that you will continue to grow into this skill.

We couldn’t imagine this family without you, Hudson. You are a shooting star, leaving a trail of warmth and magic wherever you pass. From the particular clothes that you insist on wearing every day, to the increasingly specific gift wish lists, the endless ‘fart’ noises that you walk around the house doing – we love you in all your quirkiness, Hudson. You are truly one of a kind and I have no doubt that this planet is destined to be different because you are on it.

Keep being you. Follow your own path. Anchor yourself in faith. Create, make, imagine. You have everything you need.

Love Mum