Living-Deliberately.com

And so it was that seven years ago today, just after midnight, a little red-faced man-child was born into the water in the tub we’d set up in our living room. He was the first birth after a death and his first breaths did not just fill his lungs; they signified the turning of grief into joy. As soon as he was on my chest, we put on Louis Armstrong’s What a Wonderful World, and we marveled at his serious and deep blue eyes; an old midwife once said that the newly-born can see into your soul and indeed, the intensity of their gaze feels exactly like that.

An hour later we sat in bed: Dad, Mom, baby, and the midwife and ate large wedges of chocolate cake with cocoa frosting and glasses of milk near dawn, all of us feeling as if we’d completed a journey and knew this baby would bring happiness and healing.  And so it is with a profound gratefulness  and wonder that this boy has such a developed and keen sense of humor, that he has always, from his first moments, inhabited a wise knowing of sorts that runs deep but can scarecely be described. I’ve grown used to people commenting that they recognize something “special” about him and have placed him in a nook within their hearts….and yet, not used to it because how can he be really be different than any other boy?

When he was growing within I had dreams of him being “born in the caul”. This is when a baby is born with the bag of waters intact. It’s legendary among midwives. As it was, my water was broken artificially, beginning a pattern of much in his life being interfered with by external forces. We’ve watched and prayed as he’s endured what is at times, an unenviable path, and have been left amazed as he’s done so with such candor and calm; his spirit seems indefatigable.

And why so persevering? Because he can burp with the best of boys! Tell gross jokes! Run until utterly spent and sweaty until he drops into a heap of happy. He gets mad like a red-head and fights with his brothers and loves to ride his bike. He can find a friend in anyone. His adversity is something I rarely see him question; it just *is* and he moves on and deals, and I usually feel like he’s teaching me so much.

So  happy birthday baby! We will watch Louis and eat chocolate cake with cocoa frosting, go see cowboys and have friends. We will laugh and remember again that promises are kept:  weeping endured for a night, but joy came in the morning, and the world is better for it.

Trackback This Post | Subscribe to the comments through RSS Feed