Dear Sage — On Your First Year Around the Sun.
One year ago, you made me a mother.
Thank you for choosing me.
Nothing has ever humbled me the way you have.
People used to tell me to toughen up when I was little —
“you feel too much, they’ll walk all over you.”
I won’t raise you like that.
I will raise you to stand in who you are.
To feel deeply.
To move through life soft-hearted, but with your head held high —
to stay gentle without letting the world twist that gentleness into fear.
But it changed me.
You made me fight when I wanted to give up.
You made me grow when I didn’t want to.
You made me become the person you needed.
You made me take accountability.
You made me choose better.
Through everything,
it was just you and me learning how to keep going.
And the truth is —
you changed me.
Birth is chaotic, violent — and so close to death.
All natural. Terrified.
The worst pain I had ever felt.
I remember thinking:
“This is it. This is where I die.”
And in that exact moment —
you arrived.
Life met me at the edge of death.
Stay humble.
Stay respectful.
Stay hungry.
Stay bold.
Stay present.
Quiet the mind. Open the heart.
Read people, don’t fold.
Turn envy into inspiration.
Care instead of control.
You are enough.
Never get too comfortable.
May you never question your worth.
You were created in a ‘moment of
pure, honest love —
and I will never tell you otherwise,
not even when the world around us was chaos.
Sage,
I miss you when you sleep.
And when you open your eyes, everything makes sense.
Sometimes I sit by your little bed, waiting for you to wake up
like some overexcited side-character, ready to start the day with you.
It’s us two, always.
Mommy and Sage against the world.
Love hard,
Because that’s how we survived.
And that’s how we won.
Mommy x
