A sentimental feeling

I haven't blogged for a while. I feel like all I want to do is have snarky posts like all the super funny mommy bloggers who use the f-word so well and drink a lot. And while I can THINK the f-word pretty well and dream of drinking a lot, I find myself not quite as cool as I would like to be. SOOO... what better time to write a little sentimental diddy than when I should be packing for our trip that begins in 3 hours. Procrastination... get some. I have been a sentimental fool these past few weeks thinking about my eldest's upcoming birthday. I cried on the first, the second, the third and expect tomorrow to be no different. I cry for all sorts of reasons. The fact that a year goes by so very fast. The fact that my tiny baby who couldn't live without me is already starting to not need me, the fact that every year he gets older is one year closer to him marrying someone I don't like... that last one was a joke (kind of). Mostly, I cry because I am so happy that I get to be his mom. Which brings me to the real reason for this post: me. I'd like to pretend that his birthday is all about him. But its not. He's too little to care still. He just gets excited because he gets to open some presents and eat extra cake. And that's how it should be, for now. No, birthdays right now are all about the parents. Our feelings, our projected wants, our long repressed wishes for birthdays past. And our longing to freeze time in its place and not move forward to face what the teen years may have in store. I remember this moment four years ago. I was probably still sleeping at this time of day (that hasn't happened in FOUR years), but when I awoke I was still HUGELY pregnant and wondering when that magical moment would happen. Would I KNOW (ha ha) would it be fast, slow, could I actually do it? And most importantly when??? I wanted July, then I wanted to have him on August 3rd, so we could be Sept 1, Oct 2, Aug 3, and so today was the day! It had to be. And as the morning rolled on my spirits sank. Nothing. Not one contraction. I still didn't even know what a braxton hicks felt like. I was going to be the pregnant lady that never gave birth. We continued on like it was any other pre-baby day. We went berry picking, we made ice cream, that evening we got in the hot tub at our apartment complex, and bam! my world changed. And today while thinking about my little son, that is growing up, and up, and up, I realized that at that moment I changed. And I have realized one more thing. The first born is not more loved, or more special because they are first and can't be replaced, they are special for how you are changed. For how in the blink of an eye, (well not really, my "eye blink" took 7 hours) your whole world is never the same, ever again. It's not about you for one minute longer. And that is hard to fathom before that moment. That every cell in your body, every thought in your head, can be so consumed by another creature, that food is unimportant, personal hygiene irrelevant, and you realize there is nothing you wouldn't do for them. And that is why I am taking this moment to make it about me again. About what happened to ME four years ago. In some ways it is more miraculous than the birth of a child: the birth of a mother. And the real reason first born are so special-- not because of what they are, but because of what they have made you. In my case, a mother. Happy birthday tomorrow, the boy who made me a mommy. I love you!