On The Eve of Your Birthday

Dear Jack,

I just finished telling you the story of how you were born, giving you chin-kisses, and tucked you into bed. Tomorrow is your birthday and I am both happy and sad. I can not believe that tomorrow you will be seven years old.

I still remember 7 years ago waking up at 3AM with the first contraction. I knew within moments of waking up that this would be the day you were born. (How I wish I had been that sure with your brothers!) I tried to watch some episodes of Friends on DVD, but found that laughing while having a contraction was not much fun. Plus, I was lonely. I woke up your dad at about 5AM, not knowing he had only gone to bed moments before I woke up.  We sat together for awhile waiting, until an acceptable time to call Grammy.

Seven years ago, Easter was in March. The only time I can remember it ever being in March, and it was of course the day you were born. Instead of driving to Grammy's for Easter dinner, the whole family drove to our old house and set up shop.  I was sad to miss the ham and scalloped potatoes but so excited to know that you would be born on March 27th.

You see, March 27th was your due date, and I know most babies are not born on their due date but this was an important date to me. It was the same day that my Grandma's brother, Jack, had been born. I had hoped and prayed to have a baby boy born on this day.

I remember standing in the shower and having my one moment of panic. I didn't want to do this, I had changed my mind. The actual idea of giving birth and becoming a mom scared me. But it was quickly over and before I knew it we were in a labor and delivery room, waiting for you to be born.

The moment that your dad said, "It is a boy!" is still one of my very favorite memories. I wanted so much to name you Jack, and to have you be born on my great-uncle's birthday. It seemed as if I always knew you would be a boy, even though technically, you were a surprise!

My family filed into the room, including Grandma Mary & Grandpa Cliff, everyone taking a turn holding you, looking at your fingers and toes, and proclaiming you perfect. I just laid on the bed, smiling, unable to believe that I was actually a mom.

You made me a mom. I dreamed of you, wanted you, and hoped for you, for many many years. I loved teaching, and I loved being married to your father, but I always knew I wanted to be a mom.  To finally be holding you, talking to you, loving you, was truly a dream come true.

Now, you are seven years old. A tall, skinny, boy who loves to run, watch TV, snuggle with blankie, play outside, eat pancakes. You are the most sensitive of all my boys and also the quickest one to say, "Mom, I love you" or "Mom, you are the best". I love how much you love your younger brothers, even when they drive you crazy. And how, you love babies. I would happily give you the 10 siblings you ask for, if there was anyway I could do it and still be a good mom. You are an amazing dancer, sing better then I can, and share my mediocre feelings about dogs. You are truly one of a kind.

And I am so thankful to call you my son.

Love you,
Mom