The Middle One is five and I’m having a tough time. He is not a baby anymore. His features are more angular, his speech is more clear, his independence rings out louder and louder each morning he rises. Five years have passed and yet, it seems like I just left for the hospital this morning.
- induced almost 2 weeks late
- 18 hours, no drugs
- dilated 9 centimeters while I stood up for 20 minutes as the nurse futzed with the wires on my machines so I could take a walk.
- I never got that walk.
- I still shake just remembering it.
- I fear the sound of the Law and Order “bong-bong” will give me phantom abdominal pain for the rest of my life.
This boy made me forget-every time I looked at him-that the world outside his deep blue eyes was anything less than perfect. My sisters in law tell me he was really ugly. They are probably right. He was black and blue and his head was as flat as a pancake. It was a tough ride for the poor kid and his battle scars showed.
He will age again soon. He will grow taller faster than I (or his pants) can imagine. He will need me less and less. Yet through it all, he will always be my (beautiful) baby boy.
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