Happy Birthday Son!

You’re 25 today, and I remember your birth like it was yesterday. Rushed to the hospital at 90 mph, the sheer terror at the thought of losing you. Then it quickly became a long drawn out terror, but with God helping it became a little less each hour, each day, until finally at 4 lbs, you got to come home. Then the real hell began, filled almost equally with pure adoring love. You had to be fed every hour on the hour for a year and a half, before your stomach grew large enough to eat enough you weren’t starving to death. All that resulted in a mother who lost her mind. Who seriously went from a normal person, to someone who was suffering from sleep deprivation and running literally on auto pilot. My auto pilot was God. I might not have known it at the time, but I know it now. He had to have been watching over us, because until you began to sleep five and six hours at a time, I was a frizzy haired zombie. But you started to catch up and fill out into this amazing little boy, who stole my heart on day one, and proceeded to fill it to the brim every day after. You had this way of looking, that melted my heart into a puddle of happiness…

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and there it is!

Oh but I love you Douglas, my Dooglemeister, my Dougalug, my Little Man, my light.

Happy Birthday, Love Mom

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11 thoughts on “Happy Birthday Son!

  1. I am sorry, but this seems a bit too meaningless to wrap my mind around easily. Where’s the sense in that -all the mother went through all those years? It’s a bit too much to lay on any human being. It just is a bit too much. Nah!

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