49 years

Today is my son's 49th birthday and I can hardly believe I'm old enough to say that. It seems like yesterday I was heading to the hospital to give birth for the first time. I was so young and so very scared. I had no idea what to expect - no childbirth classes to prepare me to breathe properly or ride out the pain. Instead, as each labor pain grew in intensity, I struggled against it feeling like I was about to split wide open and just when I thought I couldn't bear another second of terror, my beautiful baby boy arrived. I'll never forget how it felt to have him placed in my arms. His tiny body cradled against me, I felt such love and utter infatuation. Finally, I had something or someone to call my own. 

How could the time have flown so quickly? 1976 seems a lifetime away. Looking back, I marvel. I was such a child when I gave birth for the first time only I didn't realize it at the time. I was just 19. By today's standards, I would have just graduated college a year earlier and be enjoying my first year of college, but I'd never been raised to think that way. As I was growing up, it was instilled into me that the greatest calling a woman could have was to be a mother, so that's what I aspired to be, but when you're so young, it's a huge challenge to be a good mother and though I did my best, I don't think I was a very good one. 

Day by day, I worked hard to love my child unconditionally. He was the light of my life and filled me with such happiness. Yes, it was hard to endure sleepless nights when he was sick or teething, but I did it anyway. Some days were more challenging than others because I didn't really know what I was doing. I was winging it and often would have to ask for help from my mother. Naturally, she was honored when I called on her and always stepped up to the plate, but sometimes, she overstepped and tried to usurp my role. But that's a story for another day. 

Thankfully, I can look at my son today and see he's a good kid. He's a wonderful father and now, a grandfather! As I watch him interact with his little grandchildren, I smile knowing I did something right. At least, I think I did. My only goal, as a mother, was to teach him to love and be loved. I hope he'll pass that legacy down throughout the generations to come. 

Next year, Lord willing, He'll be 50 and I'll be 69! And one day, when I'm old and decrepit, I hope he'll come to me and tell me I mattered.