For Thor - 64 - Happy Birthday in Heaven

Hey, Thor, my sweet boy. On this day twenty years ago you made me a mom. Your entry into the world was intense for everyone including you. We weren't sure you were going to stick around. You didn't breathe right away after you were born like you were trying to decide about taking on this life. I remember watching in stunned horror as your perfect little body, blue from lack of oxygen, lay on the towels while the midwife worked to stimulate you. After pushing for nearly three hours, I was in an other-world state of exhaustion, not comprehending what was happening. All I could think was "Take a breath! Just breathe!"  And you did finally hiccough and sputter to life. As your little lungs filled with air, the blue tinge faded away. You turned a lovely shade of bright red within moments. I nearly collapsed with relief. 

You had decided to be here with us. I didn't know then it would be for such a short time.  But if I did know, and there had been a choice of having you for nineteen years or not getting to have you in our lives at all, I would choose the first. Over and over again. Even knowing I would have to walk this road of mourning and grief; knowing you, loving you, being your mom and having the privilege of your presence in my life is worth all the agony of loss.

I never really knew what love could be until I had a child. You opened my eyes to a new kind of selflessness and unconditional love that had not bloomed in my heart until I saw your eyes. I love your dad, fiercely, but there is something different about the love of a mother for a child. Children are born of and by us. You are of our bodies and are a piece of our souls. You embody all the hopes and dreams for life that we imbue you with as you grow in the womb. You hold our hearts in your little hands from the very first second of the very first breath. We fall into the depth of your newborn eyes never to be seen again as our former selves, for now, no longer who we were before; we become your mom. This transformation is total, and it happens in an instant. 

The first time I held you was awkward. I had held babies before, but this time, I was responsible. Adapting to the new role of mom took a little while, but you were a good teacher! You'd let me know if I was doing it wrong with a forceful cry that sent me scurrying to figure it out. When I got it right, you rewarded me with the sweetest little smiles or you would settle peacefully to sleep on my chest, nuzzled up and cozy.

I sang to you every day, little ditties that were our secret lullabies. I made up a version of The Carpenter's "Close to You" and modified "Pretty Irish Girl" from Darby O'Gill to be love songs for you. For about a year and a half, I was the only one who could settle you to sleep. You reached for me with those little hands seeking the solace of Mom; a place all humans long for and treasure. As tired as I was from sleepless nights walking the floor and no-nap days that meant I couldn’t get anything done, I loved it that you needed me.  

Gosh, you were a smart, sweet and funny little guy. You loved to read books (at least early on). You learned your ABC's, could read fifty words and could count to 20 by the time you were one year old. You were fascinated with guitars, tractors and trucks. You loved Tickle Me Elmo and would belly laugh with him over and over. For the longest time, you wouldn't eat cheese - on anything except for mac & cheese. This put a crimp on pizza night! Eventually, you came to like the gooey stuff, but it was so funny how much you hated it at first. You had the most precious long curls that framed your sweet face.  As you grew into boyhood your kind heart and inquisitive mind really began to express themselves. You loved to help your dad, pap and grandpa with anything they were doing. You were curious about the way things worked and would watch with rapt attention if any machine was being taken apart. You loved anything with a motor and speed. Hunting, fishing, camping, mudding, jetskiing, dirt bikes, quads...you name it, you were up to your eyeballs in it, having a blast and getting dirty and hungry. 

Cooking for you was a joy. Your appetite for good eats was as big as your appetite for living life. You liked anything I made, but you had some favorites; chicken & dumplings, chili, london broil on the grill, beef stew, my homemade dinner rolls, fried chicken and mashed potatoes, collard greens and gumbo! I made a pot of chicken & dumplings in your honor last night for supper.  It was a really good batch.

Today is your first Angel Birthday. I hadn't ever heard that term until a friend shared it with me, but I like it. I awoke this morning to a September 8 that is forever transformed for me, again. It marks the day you came to us, and also is a poignant time to realize that you're gone from our midst. I like to think that you're celebrating your birthday with other family and friends who've left this realm. In my heart's eye, I see you playing guitar and singing for the joy of everyone. Nana and Pap Anderson, Nana and Pap Stish, Papa, Aunt Sue, and so many others are gathered around wearing angel wings and radiantly beaming with the love that connects us all. I know you're taking the opportunity to jam with Jerry Garcia, Merle Haggard, and David Bowie, too.  You're an angel after all, and you can do whatever you like.

I sipped my morning tea today and leafed through several photo albums. I started with a photo your dad took of my very pregnant belly on the day before you were born and went right through to the very last picture I have of you - the one where you and I are dancing in the kitchen just a few moments before your final exit. I am so grateful to have these images of your life, of your splendid and happy life, to keep me from despairing too much. Tears are falling, even as I write this note to you. It's a thoroughly bittersweet day. Sweet for all the delicious and wondrous celebrations we shared in your life with us. Bitter with regret that there will be no more to add. I don't think that will ever go away. 

I stood on the porch as the dawn sky shifted pink and purple hues and I sang "Happy Birthday" to you, a couple of finches and crows joined in the chorus. Wherever you are, I hope you heard me. I hope you feel the love I have for you, that we all have for you, on this day and every day, Thor. 

Happy Birthday in heaven, Bubby.

I love you,

Mom