Happy Birthday, C!

C turns 11 today – or rather he did, just after midnight. I spent most of March 31, 1996 in labor, and had he not had such a big head (seriously, it was off the charts) he might have been born before midnight.

April 1, I decided long ago, is a great birthday. Everyone remembers it! Seriously, people will send us notes or email or call today saying, “I always remember today is his birthday. How are all of you?”

C and I have a little thing we do. We lie down next to each other on the floor and put one leg straight up in the air, comparing lengths. Then we compare arm length. It is downright scary to see how tall he has become. His foot is close to my ankle and his arm is just a finger shorter than mine.

He’s been growing his hair long the last few months. It’s a little scraggly at the moment and needs a trim, but it really suits him. I can see he’s going to be a handsome young man. I dread the first phone calls from girls. It may be a year or two away, but it’s going to feel like five minutes from now to me.

C’s birthday will forever be tied up with memories of his illness. This is bittersweet for me. While I would change history if I could so he wouldn’t have to go through that, I recognize that I can’t, and if having him here with me today means that he had to be sick in that way, then I have to accept it. The most important thing is that he is here and strong and healthy, as are his siblings and father and the rest of our family.

C is truly one of my favorite people in the whole world. We have our moments, and mothers and sons do, but he’s really a good kid. He’s a great big brother, a good friend, a nice guy. Like I was telling him late last night, his birth day was one of the happiest days of my life. He and his dad and siblings are the best things that ever happened to me.

Thank you, C, for being my son.