August's birthday was a weekend without distraction, just family and all the love we had poured into him. He was spoiled with gifts and didn't even realise it and I loved him so much for it. Happy to be surrounded by people he played, explored and cuddled with all his might, giggling and dancing as he went. We ate food that warmed the soul. I spent hours making messes in the kitchen and creating healthy and delicious meals. I made my favourite raw chocolate cake and August devoured it, smearing everything in reach in its succulent brownness.
We spent Sunday outdoors and in a beautiful café on an ancient farm with proud, old Swedish buildings standing among bee hives and a rainbow of flowers. I wanted to live there. It made me sad that such a heavenly place was so close to our little, concrete apartment. I didn't want to go back then. I just wanted to run away to start a new life somewhere beautiful with the boy of my dreams and my magical one year old. Soon enough we will.
August, my first born, my wonder child,
You are my son. That is a sentence that still makes me catch my breath. I'm not sure that it will ever sink in and become real. It seems so surreal and impossible like something from a fairy tale in some wondrous place. As your tiny body grew deep and warm inside of me I thought I could die with excitement at the thought of meeting you, and then, after the twelve hardest hours of my life I did. They lay a crinkled and tiny you into my arms and I became your mother. You have taught me more in the last year about myself than I ever thought possible. It has been hard and beautiful and scary and humbling but most of all so unbelievably wonderful. I know it wasn't your choice to make but I am so grateful and so thankful that you are mine.