my boy turns eight.

Today we are celebrating Bergen Hawkeye Norton.

A boy whose life has changed ours.

A boy who has introduced our entire family to bird watching and helped encourage us to continue our good food journey.

A passionate little man whose feelings are more sensitive than his knees.

A fellow with a tendency to follow.  A cuddler and a grinner.

I love him.

Every baby changes the face of a family.

But when I met Bergen Hawkeye, a baby whose name was chosen before we had even officially decided we wanted to have children, I knew immediately my heart was tied to his in a way I couldn’t explain.

I felt then, and still feel now, this deep desire to hold this one close.  Maybe it’s because he is a boy and life just seems to say that boys belong to their mommas for such a short time before they find their way into another woman’s heart.

Within minutes of his birth, my thoughts were on my mother-in-law – how she had a baby boy once too and how by Bergen’s birth, my future would likely destine me to be the mother-in-law to a girl one day too.  A girl who would love my boy and know him and care about him.  (I think I could feel my heart begin to break in that hospital room in Rocky Mount, Virginia.)

But today we celebrate eight.

We celebrate a boy named after both his great-grandfathers and a nature-loving hero in a novel.

We celebrate all we’ve known of this son – sleepless nights and teeth flying across the room and cuddles and mohawks and stitches and hernias and learning to read and the lure of sunshine and animals.

We celebrate all that is yet to come – more novels and growth and laughter and adventures.

What a beyond-words privilege to mother this boy, this man-child, this bouncing explosive affectionate creature that is my son.