Once, a long time ago, a young woman had a major problem. And the doctors told her she probably could not get pregnant. For years she moved on and let it not weigh on her mind. God’s plan was obviously not children. But that was ok. She was living and loving a life of raising other peoples babes. Nanny work was rewarding, and gave her the outlet for her love and energy. Then, the same woman met the love of her life at a wedding of all places, and they dated for a short bit.
Her future husband knew within 3 days it was meant to be. It took her about 22 months longer to think about it. During that 22 months, they discussed family. She told him about her problem, that babies might not be in it, and he loved her anyway. Then, they made a 5 year plan. Save up, get married, buy a house, find out if there is any chance the whole pregnancy thing would change. Fast forward to around Mother’s Day of 2006. They had been married for about 10 months (1 month from the “official” wedding, as they sneaked off and eloped before that April day.) The same woman is now worrying, because its that monthly “time” but nothing has happened yet. The last time this happened she was rushed to the hospital. She worries more. She calls a friend who asks her if she might be pregnant. But that was impossible. Right?
And even if it was, this was NOT part of the 5 year plan. Her husband was a planner. He was going to freak out. But she took a test anyway.. Then called a doctor. Yes she was. Honeymoons are magical. But something didn’t look right. So they waited to tell the family. Once they knew for sure it was OK, they told their moms first. But the moms we told they might not be grandma’s. It was still scary. They waited until Father’s Day to tell the dads. It was a great plan. “Happy Father’s Day Grandpa” cards were bought. Her father got it first. And started to cry. He knew she was maybe not going to be able to have children. And he also was very sick. He was so happy to know he might get to hold a grandchild. His father took longer to figure it out. Thought the card was an “old man” joke.
In the midst, her father’s condition worsened. Just 3 months to go. And her father sunk into a coma. She went to the hospital against everyone’s advice. She waiting until she knew her mom would not be there to stop her. She went to the ICU. The nurses tried to stop her. But she begged one nurse to please let her go. She needed to talk to her father. So she suited up in a full biohazard suit and mask. She stood by his bedside. And told him he had to fight. He had to wake up and hold his grandson and teach him all the things he needed to know about cars. Trains. And music. And a miracle happened. His vitals went crazy. His heart accelerated, The doctors were shocked. Because he woke up. Her father told her when he woke up he knew she had been there. He remembered it.
He wondered if it had been a dream. He told her. In his head he was screaming at her. To take this unborn child away from the germy hospital and to keep the baby to be safe. And then, after a pregnancy fraught with back labor, gall stones, and endless worry, a “Hurricane” entered the world. He came in fighting. It was not his idea to come. The cord went around his neck so many times. He didn’t cry. She panicked. Her mom told her it would be ok. But the hushed whispers told her the doctors were worried. A handful from the start. But then he screamed. Then just as suddenly as he started, he stopped, and he calmed. He was looking at her. She held him in her arms and she smiled. She thought about him. Her son. He started out on his own drummer. When it was time to eat he slept when it was time to sleep he ate. He set his own tune. And she went along with every single one of his differing beats. He made his own way and decisions. He seemed, even as an infant, to relish in challenging her. He spent 5 straight months screaming. He walked when he decided he wanted to. He potty trained when he decided he wanted to. He went from not reading to whole books just because he decided he was ready. He set his own pace and still does. He brings calm and chaos every step of the way and lives up to his nickname of Hurricane. Every morning she wakes up and thinks “Holy crap. I am a mom.” And it blows her mind. Every year for the last 7 she has had the joy, on the second Sunday of May, to relish in being part of this day. And it is amazing. She is stressed, happy, sad, mad, fierce, tender, silly, serious, and overwhelmingly joyful. All at once. All because she has been given the chance to be a mom.