The year, 1984. Me, on my third pregnancy. Blissful, was not part of my experience. Having had two miscarriages, we didn’t dare get excited. Complications, loss of weight, barely keeping YOU “safe” inside my womb to continue to grow strong.
December 3, at my regular doctor check up. Seven months along, cheering for the finish line. Nope! Not going to make it! Your heartbeat was barely audible. And, unbeknownst to me, the fluid that I was losing was not pee, but embryonic fluid. Crazy, I know!
Rush! Rush! Rush! Here you were, a healthy baby boy! Making your entrance with a loud cry and peeing all over the nurses. Definitely all boy! Who knew, then, what lay ahead.
Today the roles have changed ⇒⇒⇒
- The day we received that final “no”, and knew that the inevitable was so close. In the back yard I screamed, and hit (literally) the block wall. There you were, your hand on my shoulder holding me in your arms. I sobbed!
- The day Angie took her last breath. As a zombie, I walked out to her memory garden, stooping down, I wrote “this date”. My knees gave way. There you were, holding me up.
- As that van drove away with her little body. There you were, to scrape me off the driveway.
- As her shell was being lowered into the grave. There you were, your arm around me.
⇒⇒⇒I could go on and on…
How is it that such a mess of a human would birth such amazing human beings? God has been so good to me! He gave me YOU🖤
This year, we have danced together; we have sang together; we have laughed together; and, yes, we have shed tears together. You have given me the gift of allowing me to be me; of walking toward the mess and not away from it.
34 years and counting! May God, in His grace, give us many more years together.
I love you so very much, Son🖤
"Ready Pen..." 