Seven years ago tonight I was trying to watch the season premiere of Without a Trace.
I was in the hospital, having given birth to #1 earlier in the day. He was off
lounging in the tanning bed receiving phototherapy for mild jaundice. The spousage had gone home to get a full night’s sleep, which I sorely needed myself, having been awake more or less for four days at that point (ever since my water broke late Sunday night).
As I recall, the episode began with a steamy scene between two of the characters, but even that couldn’t keep me awake. I slept soundly for an hour or two until a nurse returned my wee son to me, all five pounds and a few ounces of him.
He was such a beautiful baby – big eyes, round head, a whisper of dark, downy hair. And now he’s a beautiful boy. Still has big eyes.
If the Jesuit saying holds true, he’ll be a fine man, I think. Smart, yes, but kind, too. Cautious but enthusiastic. Generous and affectionate. Occasionally impatient, but deeply ethical.
It is both a great challenge a great pleasure to be his mother. Seven years ago, I had no idea how much, of either. I think we are both looking forward to the next seven!