The chips were stacked against him, and I sure did not help.
I was hopped up on so much morphine I thought my toes were glowing, and could not feel my legs. His birth was not picture perfect, his entry into the world was tough.
The instant I hear him cry, I lost a part of myself. I was losing my ability to be so darn selfish...this screaming kid needed me. His cry touched my heart to the core. I needed to hold him, to touch him, and I needed to cry. He was here and I was terrified, and ecstatic all at the same time. Me, a mommy. Him, a son - a child of god, and now my child.
Made me question if god really knew what he was doing?
For real, he must be handing out kids like candy - Lance & I were no way parent material; or so I thought.
I remember leaving the hospital with an empty car seat and crying all the way home. Mommies are not suppose to leave the hospital without their babies and now I know why. Even thought I could not change a diaper, I knew I needed him close. I know I had SO much to learn - and yes, he was my learning curve. I may have gotten an E for Effort and an L for love - I luved him so much I could burst. And as my learning curve, I clipped your nails too close, didn't know how to clean your pee-pee (it freak'd me out!), and hit your head on a wall or two. Sorry, does not seem like enough - I am just glad you survived having me as you mommy.
As a baby I could never picture him growing up.
Is that weird?
I mean seriously, I never pictured him beyond the baby stage. Perhaps because his baby stage was filled with so many unknowns for me that I could not see beyond the next hurdle. Too bad, I am sure I missed some really good moments, begin wrapped up in my anxiety driven world.
Eight years has come REALLY FAST. I could never see beyond the sleepless nights, the crying, the feedings; shame on me. Although all of it seemed worth it, when you smiled at me. Your little broken smile could brighten up the darkest room.
In your eight years of life, you have taught me so much.
You have taught me that special needs is just a label.
You by the way, are not - special needs. You are not failure to thrive, and as you eat me out of house and home - I figure it is punishment for believing such nonsense. *For real, you eat TWO subway sandwiches this past weekend in one sitting (gross).
They said you may never excel in school - well once again color me WRONG.
You made all A's (again) this past report card. This makes me wonder whose child you really are - clearly these are not your dad's genes at work.
At this rate you will be smarter than me, oh by, tomorrow. ha!
You have a stubborn streak that is starting to make me crazy, but is tempered by the way you luv all things good and bad. Such as your sister - even in all her badness; you luv her. For instance when she was poking you in the head w/ the DS pencil - you still hugged her. A level of compassion I will never understand, but find amazing. I would have slapped my brother silly.
You make me want to be a better person and for that I thank you.
Your sister makes me want to drink, and I appreciate you being on the opposite side of the scope - it helps. When I yell at you, you are instantly sad - a reminder to me; that I don't need to take out my frustrations on you.
Some say our eyes are the window to our soul - I would say that applies to you. Your green eyes are so telling of your mood, disposition and happiness. As we enter the world of DS games, Moster Trucks, 4-wheelers, Metallica, friends, 2nd grade and Pokemon. I pray that you continue to make me your best friend, continue to think you father is the coolest person you know. We are so lucky to have you, and hope you have the best birthday ever!
Happy 8th Birthday my fry guy- I luv you!