Birthday Cakes

Wednesday was Me First’s birthday. He’s nine years old now; how the hell did that happen?

Nine years of having someone crying at me every.damn.day. Nine years of losing my temper. It’s amazing I can ever find it all, I’ve lost it so often. Nine years of promising, every night, to do better tomorrow.

So I’m pretty much a failure at this motherhood thing. But we already knew that.

Me First almost wasn’t born at all. I started bleeding when I was 6 weeks pregnant, and it didn’t stop for four weeks. The doctor told me to prepare for a disappointment and kept me on bed rest, week after long, dreary week.

I was afraid to hope for a healthy baby then. I stayed detatched emotionally for a long time, too afraid of losing the little life inside of me to plan for it at all. Outside my window spring drooped into rainy season, which dissipated into summer.

And then in the winter, he finally came. And he was so perfect!

A friend gave me advice then, that when he made me angry or disappointed, to go back to that moment when I was absolutely contented just by him having ten fingers and toes.

It’s fabulous advice.

But it doesn’t help when I am disappointed and angry with myself.

So, happy birthday to Me First. Sorry that I have gotten more things wrong than right.

I’ll keep trying harder tomorrow.

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1 Comment (+add yours?)

  1. SKHYLAR
    Jan 19, 2014 @ 16:10:30

    Aw! Happy belated birthday to your son. And, you know, we tend to be our own worst critics.

    Reply

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