(I mean, you’re his Mom, you’re not really in a position to argue it, but the reason behind that remark is another story)
So, when you take all those things away. All the celebratory comments and moments. All the sappy and sentimental things. When you take away all those apparent and the obvious layers to acknowledge today, what am I left with? What am I left with to say, to mark the occasion for you? For your first Mother’s Day?
First off, the obvious: I love you.
I love you more today, as I type this than I did yesterday, or the day before. More than last Thursday may be debatable, but there’s no debate that seeing you as a mother has me loving you in ways I never could have imagined.
It’s truly a unique thing, to have your heart break, while it grows 10x bigger with love and adoration.
I love the mother you are for our son, the stepmother you are for Canaan and Abby. I can not imagine a more perfect partner or parent to be raising these kids with. (And we all know I know what I’m talking about with that statement. It doesn’t come empty; I’ve attempted this whole thing a few times now!)
Thank you for being you through all we’ve been through up to this point. You’ve kept me sane. Even in your most insane moments, you’ve been my center. My rock, my compass, my lightning rod. I can’t even comprehend what I would be like if I hadn’t had you by my side during the past 2 months, much less the last 3 years.
You’re going to be annoyed with this, but it needs to be said. Your strength, composure, and determination these last 2 months have been nothing short of amazing. The things I’ve seen, the things I know you’ve gone through that no one else knows. I won’t write them out, I won’t list them, but there’s a reason you’ve left doctors and nurses impressed and in awe in your wake. To be as composed and functional as you’ve been, when you’ve been nothing but shattered and broken on the inside. All simply because you “have to be” for our son. You’re the true epitome of a strong, unwavering mother.
We do not know what HG will be like in the next 6 months, 2 years, 10 years. I know you can’t stand all the cliché remarks, but let me say this: we’ll be ok. We’ll be ok because we have you. No matter the circumstances, I know, with absolute confidence, that our son will be the strongest-willed, most determined child he can be. He will find his way in this world. It might be his own unique way, but it will be his, and he will forge it with a fire and a strength that will come directly from you.
Now, remove all the AMC stuff, all the health issues we’ve faced. Just take a step back for just a moment (I know that’s impossible, but at least entertain me while you read this) and read this as just my wife, as just Harrison Greene’s Mom, and nothing else: We love you. You have been amazing, and you will always be amazing. We are lucky; we are blessed to have you. You made me a father again, a concept I had all but given up on 3 years ago, and I could never be happier at being proven wrong. I already loved you unconditionally. I’m not sure what comes next after unconditionally on the whole loving you scale, but we’re deep into that entire realm.