Monday, May 12, 2014

Mother's Day - 2014

As a small girl, I wanted to have 12 children when I grew up.  I'm not really sure why I wanted so many children.  I had read "Cheaper by the Dozen" and I was fascinated with the Kennedy clan, so maybe that is where that number came from.

When I was finally ready to have children, it took me several years to get pregnant.  I was 36 and felt my time was running out.  But then I got pregnant with a little boy we named "speck".  My pregnancy was problematic and high risk.  We worried so much about "speck".

But little speck arrived on August 27, 1992.  He was so tiny and so perfect.  And his eyes were so wise and all knowing, you could lose yourself by just staring into those eyes.

I had always imagined I would be a stay-at-home Mom, just like Mrs. Cleaver, but that destiny was not in my future.  Because of my Hubby's job moving to another city, it made sense for him to stay home to watch Alex and I would return to work.  How that broke my heart having to leave my little boy behind.  I know I was very fortunate that Gary could stay home with Alex, but deep down I wanted to stay home and I did really hold on to that resentment for several years.

It is amazing how each passing year the love you have for your child continues to grow and get bigger than you could possibly imagine.  It's also so sacred to bear witness to the soul of your child as they begin to evolve.  As my son began to talk, to formulate ideas, to develop his sense of humor (which he told me at 7 was his gift) I was awed by the miracle unfolding in front of me.

Alex grew taller, he became older and spent more time with his friends.  And yet he was still my little babe.  He was funny, overflowing with compassion, loving and thoughtful.  And he still made time to kiss me before he went to bed and to tell me he loved me.

And in a blinking of an eye, my son was graduating from High School and his future was waiting out there for him.  What will he do, where will he go and where do I fit in his life were all thoughts swirling in my head.  Will my son forget me?

Now at almost 22 years old, I gaze at my little babe, a grown man with an almost Amish beard and I see that miraculous soul deep inside him and marvel that I am his Mother, that he loves me and know that our love will change and keep growing deeper.

And in the words of one of our favorite books we read together when he was a child, "Love You Forever" by Robert N. Munsch:

“I'll love you forever,
I'll like you for always, 
As long as I'm living, 
my baby you'll be.”


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