Reason Enough

It seems like just yesterday I was dropping Mattie off at my mother’s house in an infant carrier. I would lug him, along with a massive diaper bag, up the fifteen or so stairs that I had become all too familiar with. And as I travel those same stairs today, only to have Matt running on his own two feet, beating me to the top, I can’t help but wonder….where in the world did the time go? How did he grow up so fast and where was I when it happened?

He stands before me now, a handsome young man, only a few inches shorter than I. Our conversations no longer consist of crayons and matchbox cars but rather what college he dreams of attending, what he wants to do with his life and if I think he is smart enough or talented enough to get a scholarship. I search his eyes trying to find a glimmer of that little boy that I once knew. But at 12 years old, all his baby fat has turned to lean muscle….the toothless grin I once loved has been replaced with adult teeth that will soon need braces and his dream of marrying his mommy has been replaced with dreams of becoming a professional ball player. I’ve noticed that this progression of change in him have produced significant changes in me. The me that once longed for him to grow up has been replaced with wanting to turn back the hands of time. I long for the days when he would call me mommy, crawl up on my lap and snuggle with me. He would fall asleep in my arms and I would think to myself what did I ever do in my life to deserve this amazing child? I remember it all like it was yesterday and yet the view becomes blurred with each passing day. He grows a bit more and becomes less of an extension of me and more of an individual with his own mind and his own views of the world. And although part of me is saddened by these changes, I know it is just simply a part of life.

Part of me feels better because I have been there with my son at each and every milestone; every “first” of his. I was there for each first day of school. I was there for each and every birthday. I was there for his first haircut, his first tooth falling out, his first bad grade, his first scraped knee, and even his first broken heart. I have been careful to miss nothing and yet I feel as if I have missed so much. I guess part of my anxiety is that I don’t have another child trailing behind him. He is all I have and I suppose my fear is that in having only one child, did I somehow miss the boat on doing it different, doing it better?

Most people I know have been blessed with more than one child and with that I think a parent learns more, grows more and evolves in a way that single child parents may not. But mostly, I think these parents get a second chance to fix any mistakes they might have made along the way. I do not have this luxury. It isn’t that I didn’t want more children. It simply didn’t seem to be in the cards for me. So when I look at my son, I understand the miracle I was given but I also see the mistakes I have made. I can only pray that over time these in discretions will take care of themselves; that these scars, however small or insignificant, will fade from his consciousness. I, like every other parent want to get things right, the first time. But you simply never know when your first time may be your only time. I speak a lot about mistakes and “wish I could have/would have done it different” but don’t misunderstand. I am mostly proud of the job I have done despite my ever changing circumstances. My child is a lot like me…sensitive in nature, hopelessly optimistic about the world and yet weighted with a certain sadness that perhaps only he and I can understand. But it is a sadness marked with hope…the kind of hope that says no matter what happens in this life, we will be okay. It is a look between us, a gesture, and a silence that lets us know that we are part of the same mold, the same makeup; that we are on the same page. So as I watch him grow and the fear of losing him to an adult world that I don’t yet understand sets in, I am comforted by the belief that he will be just fine. He will face this life with the same strength and resilience that I have passed on to him and he will brave forth with my spirit, his impenetrable will and a faith in something that is larger than us both. With a quick smile from him as he runs pass me to the top of the stairs, I am reminded of why I was blessed with this one, beautiful, miraculous, perfect child. God simply knew we were meant for each other and that is reason enough for me.