remembering

I just took an Ambien, then had this idea to post, therefore the post may not make any sense at all, be maudlin or perhaps soporific.

Today is my son's birthday, my first born. Other then Mother Mary I cannot think of another mother more blessed than I am. I have three grand and marvelous sons of whom I am very proud.

My oldest son, he won't even read this, he says he already lives with me so why read what I have to say, he makes me laugh, but knowing he won't read it I can write without repercussions from an embarrassed kid.

There have been times when I have wept just looking at him, his great beauty as a child thrilled my soul. In particluar, I remember him playing in the sprinklers in the garden, covered in mud and the remains of plant rows, blonde curls springing up from the weight of the water as it poured down his beaming face, I stood with tears streaming down my face matching the water dripping down his. He was so golden, so beautiful, so angelic, so beloved, so very very muddy.

He did not sleep through the night until he was over two years, dad would fuss about how he needed sleep so he could work in the morning, my darling boy and I would try several times a night six, seven and eight times, until we ended up on the couch. I would roll the blankest around us, with him on my chest and tuck the corner of the blanket under us so he could not fall off, I was always so exhausted. He insisted on sleeping on my chest, or being held closely and rocked. We sang the moon song over and over, a thousand times over. I thought I was going to die from fatigue but we managed my son and I.

We went everywhere together, inseparable. I never wanted to be away from him, not from any of them. They rarely had a sitter, and if they did it was grandma, until she became too ill.

I have no regrets for anything we have given to the boys, time ,energy, money, things....I regret not having more to give. When I was first diagnosed with fibromyalgia, my mother would say she wished she could take it for me, she being so ill already felt useless, "at least I could do that for you" she would say, if the Lord was willing. He was not.

Nevermind though, I understand what my mother meant, I would take and bear all things for my sons so they would not have to struggle or suffer in any way. Yet it is the very struggles and sufferings we experience that refine us, depending of course on how we use them. But I would bear them for my sons if I could.

When they suffer, I weep, when they are discouraged I worry, when they laughing, I rejoice, even if they happen to be laughing at me, and they often are. When they struggle, I pray, when they are hurting, I pray, when they are happy, I pray. Always for them I pray.

Alex, my first born, my golden child, for nine months you were safe just under my heart, for more than two years you slept just over my heart, now you are my heart, my life, and you always will be.

I am so proud of you, your unflinching kindness to the underdog, your generosity, your laugh and ever so slightly snarky humor, your intellect, your desire to achieve, your talent, your gift with the flute, your wisdom, your desire and completion of a two year mission serving the most impoverished in Brazil, the list goes on my son, I adore you.

All those years ago, I saw a baby laid on my chest, from an emergency c-section, a round headed chubby cheeked marvel, perfect in every way, ten pounds of gorgeous baby boy, and I was complete, because you were mine.

I love you Alex T, for time and all eternity.