Happy late Mother’s Day, everyone! I know I’m quite a few days late. Mother’s Day morning I was inspired by my beautiful little boy to write this post. But I didn’t want to just throw it together all at once. I’ve been thinking, typing, and back spacing since Sunday, trying to make it exactly how I want it.
Early Sunday morning I woke up to sweet, slobbery kisses from Jack. He had been told it was Mother’s Day. So what does he do? He sings me Happy Birthday, of course. He knows it’s a special day for mommy, but he doesn’t quite understand what the day actually means. Either way, he knew to shower me with kisses, and sing a song just for me.
Before we got up and started our day full of fun, I snuggled up with my blond baby and watched cartoons. On one particular show, a little kid was introducing his family, including his mom. Jack turns to me and says, “You’re my mommy.” I agreed with him and replied, “Yep, I’m your mommy and you are my son.” He got a kick out of that and slapped his knee.
“No, mommy, I’m not your son. The sun is in the sky.” I tried explaining to him, for quite some time, that “son” and “sun” are two different words, two different spellings, two different meanings. The sun in the sky gives us light and daytime. But he is my son, my child.
It’s silly, but I started to get emotional as I was explaining the differences to him. In a way, my son is my sun in the sky.
I was in a dark place a few years ago. I was trying to navigate through life with no sense of direction. No light to show me where I was. No stars to guide me north. I was going south. Way south. I was lost, and I was alone.
Honestly, when I found out I was pregnant with Jack, I thought I had hit rock bottom. And maybe I had. Maybe that huge change in my life was God’s way of telling me to pick myself up and move on. Slowly but surely I came around to the idea that I was going to be a mom. After going through all the options I knew I couldn’t give him up. He needed his momma.
October 3rd, 2013 at 3:03 P.M. I realized something. After over 8 hours of labor and an hour and a half of pushing, I heard his first cry and my heart burst. I cut his umbilical cord myself. The nurse laid him on my chest and I wept. There was not a dry eye in that delivery room. They all knew it, too. I needed him just as much as he needed me.
It would be a lie if I said that my every struggle disappeared once Jack was born. If anything, everything seemed to fall apart just as they were put back together. Over and over. But there’s one difference between then and now: the son in the sky.
I have light. Yes, there are many clouds. There are storms and there are very dark nights. There are days when I feel like I can’t move. I don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to go another day. Then my sun pops out from behind the clouds. He smiles or laughs and my heart is warm with content.