I had a super long post I was working on in honor of my son's birthday, but decided against it. Instead, this will be short and sweet, with a few old photos.
Thirty-six years ago I gave birth to my only son, Christopher. He was born into a ready made family, with two older half brothers who adored him from the beginning.
|Christmas morning, 1975 ~ three weeks old|
He was an absolute delight, always laughing and smiling, ready at a moments notice for any adventure.
|Happy Birthday to me!|
|I wonder what this is?|
I'm three today!
1988 ~ My two favorite guys, hanging out together.
Finally, Chris became the big brother he always wanted to be. Jessica was born in 1989.
Two sisters! Jessica and Kailyn, Easter 1991
Happy 18th Birthday!
Today started out hard, missing Chris, and not wanting to be missing him. We went to church, and I cried through the first half, with David's arm around me, or holding my hand. And then, at some point, I began to feel the peace that comes from knowing that God has a bigger plan than I do. I let go and began to feel grateful that I was given the opportunity to be Chris' mom. He gave me a ton of pleasure over the years, and I wouldn't have wanted to miss being his mom, even if it wasn't as long as I would have wished.
When we got home, I had a message from Jessica, telling me she was thinking of me, and loved me. Then we skyped with Kailyn for awhile, and she told me how much last night's post meant to her, as that memory is a powerful one for her, too. Then Jess called, and my sister called, and my dad even called. (Although it was an accident! He had called yesterday and his phone did an auto redial for the last call, and he didn't mean to call again. I needed something to laugh about!)
Finally, Shari (Chris' wife) called. She never fails to call me on Chris' birthday and it was so good to talk with her and catch up on what is going on in their lives these days. We will be forever connected through our love for Chris and though our paths don't often intersect much anymore, our hearts beat a shared rhythm. The song in our hearts is a sad one, but it is also one of hope, and recovery and survival. Our hearts recognize in one another the strength of who we are, and of what we will become.
We are strong women, who became stronger through intimately shared grief; the knowledge that we are somehow more than we were before. That is the gift grief gave us.