9...
9 years of hugs and love and laughter and wonder.
9 years of progress, adventures, family.
9 years of watching you grow, stand your own, find out who
you are.
9 years of being your Mum.
This time 9 years ago, 4 days before you were born, we were
filled with ideals and day dreams.
Picture perfect 2.4 children family, milestones hit, what activities we
would sign you up for, holidays and day trip sketched out in earnest.
Then you arrived... hap hazardly, scarily, not quite as we
had planned. Little were we to know the
'not quite as planned' beginning was mealy the start of a trend.
I know birthdays are filled with joy and cake and love and
friends, but they are also filled with acknowledgement of what has been and
what could be, the ever moving treadmill going forwards. But I struggle. I openly admit I struggle, and no matter what
party we throw, the gift we give you, the food we eat it never feels enough for
me. There is always a hollowness, a time marker of when
things changed, when you came into our world not kicking and screaming but blue
and silent unaware that was simply the start of our parenting fears.
Birthdays mark reminders of where we have come from, the
paths we have taken, the news we have heard, the Drs we have seen, the tears we
have shed, the lives we sometimes don't recognise. Birthdays remind me of where
you should be, what should have been and although they made me sad when the walking, talking milestones
were gapingly obvious on your 2nd, 3rd
and 4th birthdays, we now have a new void... no longer physical but a learning and processing difference which will
only grow and cannot be fixed. My heart
is so heavy with this.
I have the banners to make, the cake will be done and the
balloons will be blown. I will watch you
open your gifts and beam with thanks. I
will be proud we have made it to here, yet slightly deflated that it is not
where I want to be and I wonder if that acceptance will ever truly follow.
The next few years are big ones and time does its thing even
if we are not ready. I was blessed you
wanted me to hold your hand longer than most.
I was honoured that you called me your best friend years after your
peers school friendships were solid. But
I have a heart scarred from breaking promises of 'not again' when the Drs came
with more tests and exercises and they will never heal... not properly.
I hope that I am enough.
That despite my sadness and loss and skewed view of this
happy day you know we would move mountains to help you. I will write, chase,
challenge whoever I need to to make sure you can be your very best, whatever
that is. And you are lucky, so very very
lucky, to be surrounded by friends who will always have your back - something
many people, even as adults never truly find.
I am not a little lost because of you, I am at a loss
because of me. I am stuck wanting to
change things I can't, that I am being diverted down a road that I dislike and
despite the wonderful roses in the hedgerows and the sun setting over the
fields I am still angry that I am not where I thought I would be.
And then you will be 9...
9 years of wanting more.
9 years of feeling like I have failed.
9 years of anger and confusion and shouting to any deity
that might be listening that they have fucked
this up good and proper, because
I don't think I deserve this. You
don't... we don't.
9 years or asking what did I do wrong?
9 years of never quite accepting.
And that is a very long time to be bitter.
I am selfish to act like this day is mine, that I have a
right to feel defeated on the one day a year that is all about
you. And it is your day, truly it is. But when you popped into our lives you let in
monsters and gremlins we never expected, and although you are a brave knight
and have conquered so many of them, they are always in the shadows though seeming smaller as time passes. When
your life began, mine completely changed and that is why birthdays are always a
paradox - the joy of parenthood, of seeing all you have achieved, but with a
tarnish of a sadness I could never explain.
I love you son... fiercely and protectively and in a way I
underestimated. You have re-written the
rule book, done things in your time, in
your way. You have taught me about
patience and determination, you have bought me friends I could not be
without. Our life is a very different
colour to the one we had before you or could have ever predicted.
And most days that is enough.
But you are nearly 9... and somehow birthdays just feel that little
bit different.
