My precious little boy turned three. THREE?!
It’s so cliche’ to say, but where did the time go?? How did the little 8 lb squish who made me a mommy actually turn three?
Each of his birthdays are always met with the same mix of emotions. I am so proud of the little man he is becoming: he is kind, polite, caring, and helpful. And every day he grows older he is becoming more capable of doing things himself which is both heartbreaking and awesome. Awesome because having to take care of a one year old, and a three year old, in addition to managing myself and be a good wife is all consuming and, frankly, exhausting! So, the more things he does for himself the less I have to do for him. But it is heartbreaking because he needs me less and less. And eventually he will no longer NEED me at all (though I hope he still wants me to help when I can).
Anyway… March 17th I am always awash with the memories of that day now three years past when I was in labor (read that story here). The feelings and emotions of that day… and night… and the following morning… are tangible. I dare to hope they always will be, though experience teaches me otherwise. My mom’s memories of her pregnancy with me and her delivery are very hazy so I am fully aware that time, the magic eraser, will eventually fade these memories until I can only vaguely recall the highlights. I hope that having written the story down will help my recollection some but who knows.
This year, on March 17th, we followed our normal baby wrangling schedule and we mentally prepared my son for his birthday the following day. He is only just now figuring out what that really means. In his newly, three-year-old brain it means cupcakes (this year he requested that they be green… his wish is my command)! We did all the same things we would normally do- breakfast, park, playing outside, lunch, etc…
And after an exhausting day (they all are when you’re raising kids), as I was wrestling him into his PJ’s and wrangling him onto his bed and struggling to get him settle for his story… even in my exhaustion and my readiness to have some adult time I had to stop and thank the universe for making me a mommy. And for giving me the precious gift of my son.
There is nothing else in the whole world that I will ever treasure more than my little family. Even on the really terrible days when everything goes wrong and shit seems to be hitting the fan… even then I know I should be thankful. When the kids are whiny and throwing tantrums and not listening… when my husband is cranky… when work is stressing me out and I lack patience (because adulting is so flipping hard sometimes)… when the house is dirty and chores are looming… when life sucks as it is sometimes prone to do… even then, when I consider the alternative, I need to recall that feeling of thankfulness.
Because I do not even want to imagine what life would be like without my husband, my son, or my daughter.
As I rocked my too-big-to-be rocked little boy to sleep the night before his third birthday because he whispered to me that he needed it, as my back ached, as exhaustion overcame me, my heart swelled with love and gratitude for the boy in my arms. And then, it ached for all the women and men out there who’s arms are empty.
And I thought to myself, THIS IS WHY I AM WORKING TO BECOME A SURROGATE.