I'm not a overly sentimental mom (you should see how quickly I get the cute kiddo-created art projects flying outta this place), but this birthday has me on a wind of nostalgia.
Last night I regaled the family with story of Josh's birth.
The anticipation... the patience I needed while he seemingly decided to set up camp in my uterus for the near future...the induction date set and then pushed back even one more day while all those mommies' babies came into the world because of a local snowstorm (who knew the weather influenced birth?....apparently, not Josh!)...and then, finally, seeing him for the first time.
Remembering the details, talking about how each baby was different, was so good for me. I remembered how small and precious they were when we first saw them. Their size has changed, but not how precious they are to us. I caught myself getting that far-off look on my face like a goofy soap opera star. These children have changed my life in ways I couldn't anticipate. Encouraging, and challenging. Uplifting, and humbling. (all within a few minutes of each other)
I've been a mom for more than half our married life now. Life on our own is already a distant memory. But we still remember those days, too. I even get that silly wistful look on my face, too.
Happy Birthday, Josh.
Memory is a way of holding onto the things you love, the things you are, the things you never want to lose. ~From the television show The Wonder Years
