A Day That Changed my World

Today is the 13th anniversary of my eldest child's birth. This is the day that changed my life forever, adding such deep love, fear, uncertainty and richness that I could scarcely grasp it.

I remember when they first handed him to me, I looked at his face, searching for something I recognized. There was nothing, just a grip of fear so deep that it gave me a chilled sweat. "Good God, now what am I supposed to do??"

I was mightily disappointed that there was no rush of love, or devotion, or the universe opening up to me. I was just exhausted, afraid, and reeling from having just concluded the worst pain I had ever felt in my life.

My husband held him, had a deer-in-the-headlights look, but one of awe and love as well. I got to eat a little, shower, and change, and then my mom and dad came in. That's when it seemed real, and that's when the stirrings of possesion took place in me. I saw joy without fear, unconditional love, and delight all around in my parent's faces. I held my son again, and then he opened his eyes and gazed deeply, slightly bemused, into my eyes. Then I knew I was in this forever, come what may, and that this little person was my burst of joy so profound that I was no longer the same person.

I remember the feeling of not knowing what to do with him once we got home. I showed him his room, I held him, I put him down, I picked him up again. Then I just kissed his forhead and let the minutes soak in.

Now, he is 13. I again have the feeling of not knowing what to do with him. He is a new creature now, trying to be his own person, not certain how much of childhood to take with him. I want him to know that I still am in this forever, come what may. That he is the burst of joy that changed me forever, and that he is the child that gets the mom with the least experience and the highest hopes.

Mostly, I just want to soak in each moment with him, give him what every person needs, which is unconditional love, and a security in knowing the Source of that love. Love is not in me saying or doing the "right" things when I encounter him, it is me reflecting the unconditional love of his Creator, and letting my son get so comfortable with that knowledge that he never questions it.

So, the mystery continues for me, how someone could be so tightly woven into my very being, yet so completly seperate. I would give my very life for him, yet know very few of his real feelings and thoughts. That love means so much more than knowing someone. That love is much more about giving than receiving. That I want the best for him, yet am afraid of all the lessons he will have to learn to get the best. That he will be growing away from me, and it is as it should be. That love is more painful than I ever knew, and yet so worth every twinge. Love is a mystery.


Happy Birthday, son. I love you!