Yesterday was my son’s 4th birthday.
It was also the first birthday I was not there to say “Happy Birthday” when he woke up. It was the first birthday I didn’t dress him in a special birthday outfit. It was the first birthday I didn’t get to sing a rousing rendition of “Happy Birthday” to him.
It was also the first birthday he was full aware of. It was the first birthday he looked forward to and counted down the days to. It was the first birthday he spent in school, celebrating with school friends.
I was sad the night before, moved to tears. I thought of my difficult pregnancy, how I didn’t want him at first, of all the turmoil I went through with his father during pregnancy, during our marriage… I was saddened by the turn of events that led to his not being with me. I woke up, called him and wished him a good birth day. I wanted him to know Mommy loved him, even though I wasn’t there. He knew. He always knows. I picked him up after work and went out to dinner. After, he didn’t want to get in the car just yet… he wanted to walk around with me, so we did. When it was time to get into the car, he resisted, but eventually he went in.
He asked, “Mommy am I going to my old home with you?”
I almost lost it right there. I explained he was going back to daddy and that I would pick him up on Friday. When I dropped him home, I gave him a big hug, he gave me a big smile, and we exchanged “I love you”s.
I drove home, not tearful, but happy. This is a new beginning for us, a new path, a new way of being. My baby has given me four years of the greatest gift a child could give a parent: the opportunity to truly Love.
Happy Birthday, again, Pooda. Mommy loves you always.
(class singing Happy Birthday to him) http://yfrog.com/ngpz4z