Six

I’ve been a mother for six years, now. It wasn’t always certain that I would make such a milestone. At first, it wasn’t certain that I would live to childbearing age, then it wasn’t certain that I could and/or should have children. I jumped those hurdles. I actually practically flew over them.  I went into remission in 1992, and I have been there ever since. Rather than being one of the women whose Lupus flares when she gets pregnant, my numbers improve, if anything, when I am expecting.

Of course in between going into remission and becoming pregnant the first time, a lot of things happened. I graduated three times, met my husband, married my husband, and bought our first house together. Life was good, so we decided to make it better by adding to our little family.

I cannot describe how much more intense everything has become since having a child, especially this child. He is a joy and a wonder. He is one of the most empathetic people I know. He has a heart as big as the world, and has a capacity for forgiveness that is both amazing and awe-inspiring. He is also whip-smart and extremely curious, which is an alternately wonderful and terrifying combination. I fear things it never occurred to me to fear before becoming a parent. Arrows and slings aimed at him cut me deeply, and I hope my wounds save him some pain. I do know that I cannot and should not shield any of my children from all hurts, but there is a very unreasonable, instinctual part of me that would like to do just that.

His birth story is not the typical one. He was transverse and born via c-section. He was whisked away to the NICU for CPAP and a blood transfusion as he had aspirated meconium and was acutely anemic before I could do more than give him a quick hug, and I wasn’t allowed to hold him for over a day and a half. I know many mothers have it much worse, but it was not an easy time. My sweet boy pulled through and thrived. I used to joke that he was such a snuggler because he was trying to make up for that first 36 hours or so. Since both of his siblings are cuddlebugs, I suspect that our kids just are that way.

Now he is six. He talks at the speed of lightning, and often at the volume of a stage performer. He will be in an elementary uniform in the fall. He is tallish and wiry w/ a mop of light brown curly/wavy hair. He aspires to be pretty much everything when he grows up. He used to want to be an emperor, but now he has set his sights on paleontologist, detective, author/illustrator, rock star, and father. I have watched him grow from that teeny baby hooked up to too many machines to a six-year-old who can most often be seen w/ a book in one hand and an apple in the other, and every cliché about it going too fast is absolutely right. He can’t be six, but I am so glad he is.