t just turned 27, my dearest little baby. he was due at the end of november 1982, but i knew better. rereading jane austen's novels that fall, i had a thought that he might arrive on her birthday, december 16...and then he did. the stormy afternoon when we went to mt. zion hospital, we settled into the birthing room, attended by our midwife. it felt safe, with doctors at the ready should we need them. after several hours, determined to forgo drugs to kill the labor pains, i managed to ease t into the world. i exulted in his safe delivery, and gratefully sent him to the nursery after cuddling him and admiring him, so i could get a decent night's sleep. i had a toddler at home, and when morning came, he would come to the hospital, we would pack our things and go home. it was such a great feeling, knowing exactly what to do. i looked into his eyes, and instantly recognized him as part of "my" clan. our older child, m, had looked exactly like my husband's father, so this was a first.
t was a love of a child, affectionate and sweet, and how we delighted in him. he developed a wry sense of humor, gently sending me up through his adolescence (mom...i've become your drug of choice!). smart, athletic, warm and affectionate. then, when he was 16 or so, he began to differentiate, and boy was that hard on us. i suppose it was necessary, that such a closely attached boy would absolutely need to break away from his mother, but it was so hard on me, in particular.
he has become his own man, one i never expected, whom i observe and regard with shock, dismay, admiration and profound love. i'm proud of him, and deeply satisfied to be able to participate in his life.
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