You Are Not Alone

Wednesday, July 21, 2010

Weeping In Corners

Often, when shopping for items for my Son's first birthday party, I find myself with tears gathered in my eyes.

I'm an intent shopper but, I can only imagine that, as I pick up decorations for my Son's first birthday, holding them within the hands that have the fingers that touched his gooey head seconds after he made his exit from my body, tears in my eyes, a sense of thick, emotional silence shrouding me, I draw a sense of confusion and wonder from passersby.

A package of shrink wrapped plates.
Gift bags.
Cards, (oh, but that's an easy one)
Anything emblazoned with, "First Birthday"

It's all rolling so fast. I feel like the moment he turns one, the stop watch will start and I will be running, running, running to keep up. Before I know it, i'll be dropping him off for his first day of school and hoping that he doesn't make a fuss and hoping that he does and crying in the car after he's settled and before I go home and after I buckle my seatbelt and put the keys in the ignition. I know that when I turn the key, when I drive away, I will drive home and it will be empty and I'll turn on Nick Jr. and eat a lunch of cheese sandwhich and fruit and long for my baby like i've never longed for anything before.

It could still be far away, right? I still have my baby, don't I? My sweet, round, chubby cheeked Son with dark lashes and dimpled bum.. My boy who smiles and longs for me. My baby who cries when he doesn't see me at home. My little guy who is so proud. My sweet explorer who lets me know that I make him feel safe when he achieves a milestone.


I will always have that, won't I? He may lose his roundess, his desire to snuggle with me but, I am HOME, aren't I? I am his clapping crowd, his beaming praise, his sense of belonging.

I am honored, humbled, grateful, at ease.

He's just going to have to get used to me wanting to hug him fierce, kiss him warmly, snuggle when no one is looking and most important, welcome him because, my heart is his 24 hour diner where he doesn't ever have a tab and he will always have a feast.


This, this is the joy of a Son.


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