Seventeen years ago, I had a beautiful baby boy. My world changed in an instant- and I can't imagine how my life could have ever turned out better than it did- just because I had him.
I was 19... 4 months shy of avoiding the dreaded "teenage pregnancy" label. I was 5 months married to my high school sweetheart- who had joined the military to support his Insta-family. The doctor that delivered me... delivered my boy, while his dad was 3000 miles away. It was the hardest, scariest, lonliest, most awe filled day of my life.
I was almost 3 months pregnant when I discovered why I was sleepy all the time. Nobody tells you that antibiotics and birth control don't mesh well. I thought the doctor was joking. I cried for 3 hours thinking about how disappointed my father would be in me. I told my mom first- and was so relieved that she didn't hate me instantly. I was terrified- but her reaction, her hug, made me stronger. It would be ok...I still remember how it felt to sit on the end of her bed and speak those word... mom, Im pregnant.
Daddy was a different story. I was his baby (and still to this day call him Daddy) and the thought of doing anything- to lessen his opinion of me, was a devistating thought. It took him a little while to come around, but he was my biggest advocate.
I dont remember much about the labor- other than it went fast. Within a couple of hours of realizing that I was having contractions, My baby was here. Daddy drove me and mom to the hospital- and Dad was the one who made sure that the nurses were taking care of me. "Her Mother delivered her fast, and she will go fast too. You'd better get ready~" ... and of course, Daddy was right. Doc made it in just in time to catch :)
I remember NO epidural (I delivered too quickly) and I remember the sting of the episiotomy. I remember my mom on one side and my dad holding my hand on the other. I remember the tears in my Daddys eyes.
I remember looking into that squishy red face, and that I couldn't breathe. I remember handing him, all bundled in blue to my Daddys waiting arms... and I remember my dad saying "You did good."
Through all of lifes ups and downs- My Boy has been my rock. The reason I can stay as close to sane as I can. The reason I always had to try... to MAKE things work... because it was for him. He deserved it.
Last night, My Boy had a houseful of friends over- to help him celebrate his birthday. His smile, the overheard bits of conversation, the laughter- I am so proud of the man he has become, and the man he will be. I know he hasn't had "the perfect" life... but he has a momma who has always tried to do right by him. He may look like his dad- but has been raised by his mom- the true definition of a Mommas boy... in the best possible way.
I have always told him that if he hadn't been so fantastic... he could have easily been an only child. :) And he HATES it when I say that... but I still think I can see the sparkle of pride in his eyes when I do.
He is amazing- in every sense... from the sarcastic humor...to the choices he makes...to the way he looks after his little brothers and sisters...all that curly-girly head of hair... to that phenomonal voice (and the Italian words that he sings!)
I know he isn't the way he is all because of me. I wont even try to take the credit for all of that, but I can't help looking at him today- and hearing the words of my Daddy 17 years ago... "You did good."
Yes. I think I did.
Happy Birthday Billy-YOU are the best.