Three out of four of my children have birthdays on the 10th of a month. This month, the 10th was on Saturday and the birthday was Sam’s.
Yes, my baby boy is now a five-year old kid, and although in one direction that sounds young, it seems darned grown up in a whole bunch of ways, and a baby he most certainly is not.
Home at just 13 weeks, I still miss every one of those days, and although he was certainly well treated, cuddled, fed and loved, almost every one was spent in an orphanage. That is reality, and nothing ever can or should change his path … the one that led to us to him and him to us.
Judy over on Just Enjoy Him, a very personal blog where an amazingly generous woman gently … for the most part … shares her love, concerns, opinions and more with those stopping by, has a son whose birthday and Sam’s are very close, although Nate is one year older. This year, like last, I found myself reading her thoughts as we both address our sons’ anniversaries of birth.
To say that Judy and I have different styles would be an understatement worth a giggle for anyone reading both of us, but I think it is safe to say that our love for our children is on a par, as is the time and energy we both dedicate to contemplating, examining and writing about every aspect of our kids, their lives, beginnings, futures and ramifications of our parenting.
As our boys’ mutual birthdays come around again, Judy once again manages to put so many of my thoughts of Sam’s first mother into words, and although she never claims to speak for anyone but herself, she does a darned good job of channeling my feelings.
So how could we enjoy the day of his birth without a prayer, a message of love sent to her? How could we selfishly enjoy his Birth Day without sending our respects — though sadly not in person — to the woman who gave him Birth?
I know nothing of Sam’s mother. I have no information to pass to him when he begins to ask the questions he most certainly will ask, and as sad as that is, it is almost matched by the sorrow that comes with him turning five and not being able to let her know that her wonderful, beautiful, intelligent, talented, sweet and loving son is happy, safe and loved beyond measure.
Is she thinking of him? I’m sure she is. That she wonders and pines, I have no doubt. The fact that this hurts me, too, feels too selfish to claim as I light candles and snap photos and celebrate our son.
It’s very nice to know that other mothers feel this extra twinge as another year rolls by. Thanks, Judy, and Happy Birthday to Nate.
Photo credits ©2007 SHBenoiton