On this day, 16 years ago I gave birth to my oldest son Josiah. I won’t bore you with a long story here of my experiences as his mother. If you wish, you can read this post titled “My Shameful Parenting Story” or this post titled “Good Enough Parenting”….
I simply desire to create a post acknowledging the importance of this day, as well as the love & gratitude I feel for his presence in my life…
On this day, ten years ago, my youngest son Talan was born. Since he hates cake, we decided to be creative and make a donught cake instead. I love this young man with all my heart and cringe at how fast he is sprouting up. At over five feet tall, wearing men’s shoes, I know already he’s gonna be tall like his daddy.
What I marvel most about motherhood, is witnessing the gradual process of “becoming” that unfolds. My two boys are very unique, and with each one “they broke the mold”. My oldest was a little “heartbreaker”. At just over five pounds at birth, he was born with a serious heart defect and we almost lost him. Throughout all the heart surgeries and stresses, we’ve enjoyed watching him grow into the young man he is today. Now a healthy sixteen-year-old he’s looking forward to getting his first car and a job this summer.
In contrast, raising my youngest couldn’t be more different. Mind you, I can’t say I honestly love one of them more than the other. It’s just that my relationship with each of my boys is unique unto itself. Talan was fat and sassy at just under nine pounds. The normal and typical activities of caring for a healthy infant were a welcome change. Gone were the stresses of caring for a critically ill baby. Memories of a past miscarriage fresh in mind, I cherished every minute.
As they grew, temperament-based differences led highly varied parenting expereinces. My oldest Josiah, while sensitive and caring had a stubborn streak. He preferred to march to his own drum, and loved asking “why”. Seeking to form his own opinion, I’m proud to say he’s truly “his own person”.
In contrast, my Talan is the gentlest of souls. I wouldn’t be surprised if it turns out that he’s an INFP personality like me. Our ability to understand one another is uncanny. From a very young age he’s been adept at picking up on how others are feeling. When he notices I’m down he gives me a hug and says “what’s wrong mommy”?
For this reason, I have to be careful about how I discipline him. He is so sensitive, that if I raise my voice or express too much frustration, this crushes his very soul. So eager to please, I have to set firm guidelines while communicating messages of “you’re better than that” and not “what’s wrong with you”.
Problems along the way, include his tendency to pick up on all my bad habits: stressing too much about failing perform up to a personal standard and an irrational fear of spiders. However, I gladly accept these minor issues, because raising him has been a truly healing experience…..
I love you “piglet”! Thank’s so much for being my son….