For Caleb — in every age, in every stage
Once, you were just an idea. A someday, a hope we spoke about in quiet moments, a promise we held for “one day.” You didn’t exist yet, but already you were part of our story, waiting in the wings of our future.
I loved you then.
Once, you were the size of a speck, then quickly you grew. I felt your kicks, I saw you on a screen. Grainy black-and-white images, arms forming, feet starting to move. I hadn’t held you yet, didn’t know your face.
I loved you then.
Once, you were a newborn, screaming your hello into the world. Seven pounds, thirteen ounces — impossibly small, fragile in my arms, and yet you carried the weight of everything I had ever hoped for. I had spent months waiting to meet you, imagining what you might look like, wondering who you would become.
And suddenly, there you were.
I loved you then.
Once, you were an infant. Nights stretched endlessly. You cried, and so did I. I was exhausted, unsure, afraid I couldn’t do it. But I did. I learned your rhythms, your cries, your needs. And in between the hard moments were the quiet ones: your tiny hand wrapped around my finger, your breath against my chest.
I loved you then.
Once, you were a baby. Learning to roll. Finding your smile. Your first laugh echoing through the room. Your first steps — wobbly, proud, unforgettable. The way your hands reached for me, certain I’d be there to catch you.
I loved you then.
Here you are, a toddler. You are loud and funny and full of opinions, even when you don't yet have the words to express them. You dance when the music comes on. You race through the house laughing. You want what you want, and you make sure I know it, pointing until I understand and refusing to give up when I don't. That stubborn streak is your strength and your struggle all at once.
Every day, there is a little more of you to know.
And somehow, every version of you is still here.
The tiny speck on a screen. The newborn in my arms. The infant whose cries I learned by heart. The baby taking those wobbly first steps. And now, this wild little boy racing down the hallway.
I have loved every one of them.
And someday, this version of you now will be another one I miss. Another one I remember. Another one I loved while he was here.
I loved you then.
I love yow now.
And I will love you then.
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