Farewell Broadcast (Monday, February 23)

The last morning, before we left Orlando, the Bert show aired its farewell broadcast live from the ESPN Zone on the pier across from our hotel. Bert had told us as early as the orientation (back in early January) that we would have to write and read - on air - a letter to our children. I knew it was going to be difficult, and all weekend in Disney I wondered what I would write, but when I sat down in bed on Sunday night, somehow everything I wanted to say to Jonah just poured out of me.

Dear Jonah,
I wish I could tell you I love you and know that you understand all that that truly means. I am watching you sleep right now, and it's all I can do to stop myself from crawling into bed next to you and holding you all night. I know that each moment we have together is precious because everyday you are growing up so much and so fast, and even though I know that this is a blessing, it is so hard for me to let any part of you go. From the second you were born, every minute has passed so quickly. Sometimes this has been good - when you have been sick or sad or hurt. But the happy moments, the cuddles, the sweet moments we share - those go by too quick, and I count on my memory to relive them over and over in my mind.

I worry a lot more now that I am your mom. Your sweet little life began so tough. You never had it easy in the begginning. Bloodwork, IV's, biopsies, surgery - this was your life for almost your first year. I used to worry how all that would affect you, but now I watch you and see how strong and happy, well-adjusted and easy-going you are. But there is a tough side too. You cannot be pushed too hard, or you will push back, and, secretly, I LOVE this about you. I know that I am far from perfect as your mom, but I see all of these wonderful things about you and I know I must be doing something right.

You have a way of keeping me on my toes. I truly never know what might come out of your mouth, but more times than not, it's something that will make me laugh. I absolutely adore your humor (excluding all of the 5-year-old-boy potty talk)! I love your wild imagination. Your curiosity and sheer amazement at things that seem so ordinary to me but are apparently huge and important discoveries to you keep me in check, reminding me that in having a child, I sometimes need to be a child myself...and that this is usually a pretty good thing.

You and me, our little family, it is so special to me. Some days I feel like we are best friends, and other days I feel like we are CEO and employee (although sometimes I'm not sure which one of us is the CEO). I know there are days when we both fall into our beds at night exhausted and ready to run away. But when morning comes, and we give that first hug - you know, the really big one in the kitchen that's like we haven't seen each other in days, even though we just said goodnight 11 hours before? - it's a shot in the arm for me. It is the higlight of my day. I want it to last forever, and yet, I know that I have to let you go.

There are a lot of things in this world that I cannot control, no matter how much I want to or how hard I try. But there are a few things that I can promise you. I will always love you to infinity and beyond. I will always have an endless supply of hugs, kisses and zerberts just for you. I will always remember the day you met Buzz Lighteyar, and I will tell you the story of this day as many times as you want to hear it if there are parts you forget as you grow up. I will always be your mother, your mom and your mommy, and these are the three most important jobs in my life.

You are the greatest blessing of my life, and even though you cannot understand the depth and true meaning of these words, I love you so much, Jonah Balogna.

Love,
Mommy