and so the journey began…

Fourteen years ago I became a mother and my life changed so profoundly, I hardly recognize the woman I was before. I hadn’t planned on motherhood at 34; when I was 9 I remember very clearly telling my grandmother that I would NEVER marry or have children. She wisely told me I’d change my mind and that I did.

Jamie and I had been living in our teensy little house (though mansion-like in comparison to our current home, the trailer) for about 2 whole weeks when this journey began. I was only about 38 weeks along and had expected a long haul, especially when my mom told me I was a 10-month baby, but during the Tour de France, when Abdoujaparov was attacking like no-one’s business, I went into labor while doing the dishes. At first I though I’d peed my pants; that happens sometimes when you’re carrying a watermellon above your bladder, so I headed to the bathroom to check things out. Jamie continued, oblivious, focused on the TV, to watch Le Tour.

I had very much considered a homebirth with this baby, but when we were figuring these particulars out we had no place to live and had so much chaos in our lives that it was enough just to focus on simply growing the baby. I did, however, go on to have the following 3 at home. Once I figured out that contractions followed the water breaking I let Jamie in on the secret and he did the perfect Dick van Dyke impression. I was CERTAIN the baby was coming out NOW as, after an hour, the contractions moved to 2 minutes apart (and stayed that way until transition). Unfortunately, I had many hours to go. Labor was only 14 hours or so – for a first time mom, that’s not bad (and they got progressively faster; Pike was 6 hours, Sissy was 3 and Ellen was 3 or 2?) and we had a sweet little baby boy at the end of it. He was a SKINNY little thing with almost no fat on him and we had to strip him and keep him against our skin so they wouldn’t take him to the warming table.

He was also a sleepy little thing and I had to lie to the nurses and tell them, “oh, he took 2 ounces” (or 4 oz or whatever – I mean how can a brand new mom even imagine how much a baby nurses the day after giving birth???) so they wouldn’t give him formula. We filled up a huge box of photos that first year, that continue to live in our storage area and he has blazed the trail for his siblings.

I don’t think he minds being the guinea pig; he probably did when he was younger, but he has taken on the role without a peep. He is So Very Much Like Me that I think I can see inside his head and honestly, it is so refreshing because Jamie confuses the HELL out of me and it is nice, for once, to know what is going on with at least ONE member of the family. He will still let me pull him onto my lap and call him my baby boy at 14. He becomes more tolerant as the years pass, as the maturation factor grows, but will always, I suspect be very much like his mother in that regard.

He has taught me so much, along with the other 3, that I will be in debt for a lifetime for the lessons they have given me. He was the first to change me and I will always be in his debt for that. We were stupidly simple with him, as a baby, and I hope he forgives us. He is a beautiful young man and I am so incredibly proud of my mini-me. He rises to almost any challenge and I think the best is yet to come. He brings me joy, he brings me hope, he lights up my life. (sniff sniff) He teaches me SO MUCH and I am so much better for having learned the lessons he shows me. He challenges me to grow and be a better person. And I couldn’t ask for anything more.

Happy birthday my boy. May each year get better and better.

(I meant to do this on Pike’s birthday also, but I was so terribly sick that I’ll do Pike’s tomorrow)