Twenty years ago today… you alone forever altered the framework of my life… transformed the tapestry of my very core.

You made me a mom.

I loved you from the very beginning, from the moment I saw the two faint blue lines etched across the tiny display window of the home pregnancy test.

I loved you when you were the size of a Lima bean, and then a tangerine, and then a grapefruit, even as I wondered why every pregnancy book insisted on comparing your growth to a fruit or a vegetable.

I loved you when you made your much-anticipated debut from my womb, blue eyes and peach fuzz head, 10 perfect fingers and toes. I loved you through those hazy newborn months, when you weren’t able to distinguish between daytime and nighttime, when the magnitude of my new role weighed heavily on me, sleep deprivation and forcing me to worry incessantly. There was so much to worry about. Would I be a good mom? Could I keep you safe? How was I supposed to mold and shape you into a kind and happy and well-adjusted human being? Where was the playbook?

I loved you so much.

I loved you as a toddler, sharing your passion for Blues Clues and Dora the Explorer, delighting alongside you as we poured through an endless supply of pop-up picture books, as we staged elaborate arrangements, first of blocks, and later Legos, trucks, Super Heroes.

I loved you through elementary school, accompanying you on field trips and chauffeuring you to the orthodontist, relishing all of the afternoons we played at the park — looking for gold at the end of the rainbows… chasing the thunder.

I loved you as a teenager, even as you forged your independence and stretched away from me, even when it sometimes felt like you were incapable of conversing with me, the words coming as sparingly as when you were a baby. I loved you when you made mistakes… I love you when you quit things…. I loved you in the U of U auditorium, where I spotted you on the jumbo tron playing your viola for the last time I have seen you, your graduation cap igniting tears of pure pride that burned my eyes.

I loved you when, after 18 excruciatingly short years, I finally had to leave you. At your first apartment, when we drove down to make sure all the windows and doors were locked. I loved you with my heart stuck in my throat and hot tears streaming down my face as I said sweet dreams to you there. I tried so hard to squelch the heaving of my chest as your strong arms wrapped around me, comforting me, telling me it would be okay. But I failed. I couldn’t stop it. Just as it had on the morning of your birth, my heart refused to be contained.

I loved you with a sprinkle of tough love when, halfway through your first year of college, you wanted to quit. And then, teeming with a newfound respect, I loved you from a distance, standing back as you mapped out a new course for yourself, watching as you worked and climbed a corporate chain ladder.

I loved you when you drove your HUGE STUPID motorcycle to work the first time… and you text me that you were still alive.

And I love you today, on your 20th birthday, on this hearty milestone that officially marks your passage from teenager to adult. I love the young man you have become. I love your determination and your work ethic, even if I sometimes wish you weren’t so hard on yourself. I love your sense of humor, and the way our eyes can lock across a room and invariably share the same thought, with not a single word exchanged. I love the way you always text me when you have solved your problems… though one day I hope you let me help

I love the way our relationship has developed and evolved and matured, and I love the promise of how it will continue to unfold in the years to come.

But perhaps most of all, I love you, quite simply, for making me the person I am today…. because honestly… we are awesome… both of us.

Happy Birthday Angel Boy… Bug… Neenerfan… My Baby.

I am so proud of you.