Twelve :: This Birthday Feels Different

Twelve :: This Birthday Feels Different

There’s something about this birthday that caught me off guard.

Twelve.

I’ve celebrated every one of my children’s birthdays with the same love, the same intention, the same quiet disbelief at how quickly time moves. My daughters, 15 and 8, each reaching their milestones in their own beautiful, distinct ways. I don’t love any of them more or less. But this one… this one feels different.

Maybe it’s because he’s my only son.

Or maybe it’s because 12 sits in that quiet, in-between space. Not quite little, not quite grown. Still close enough to childhood to reach back for it, but already leaning into something bigger, something changing.

And it makes me pause.

Maybe it’s also knowing that this stretch, this 12 to 18 window, will move faster than I’m ready for. That the years where he still comes to me easily, where home is the center of his world, are quietly becoming fewer.

Because he’s kind. He’s funny in that effortless way that sneaks up on you. He’s figuring himself out, piece by piece, and I get a front-row seat to that journey. That’s a privilege I don’t take lightly.

And while part of me wants to hold onto the little boy he still is, a bigger part of me is just so proud of who he’s becoming.

Happy 12th birthday PK, my middle, my only boy, and a piece of my heart that’s growing up way too fast.