Sixteen

Sixteen years ago at this time, I was in the downhill stretch....about to deliver my second son. Induced at 6AM, his labor made his brother's 28 hour marathon look like a jog around the park. The night before, the doctor said 'he's just not ready (after inducing me that afternoon) and I said 'I am not leaving this hospital without a baby. No repeat of letting him get HUGE so he tears me to shreds upon his exit. Nope. Not happening'. She must have sensed the manic in my voice...so she kept me overnight and we tried again first thing in the morning. By the time J. arrived around 8ish, I was well 'under way' and H. was officially on his way into the world. It was a breeze of a labor and when he finally popped out around 12:15 PM, I said 'that was great! Let's do it again'. I can't explain the sense of triumph I felt - this was how it was supposed to be. A woman's body knows what to do and it does it - perfectly. His birth was a breeze from start to finish and I was so relieved to have had a 'good birth experience' to replace the horrible birth experience that was B.'s. Not that B. had anything to do with that - and he most certainly was worth all of it. But I felt betrayed at his birth - my body did not just easily 'eject' him from his place just under my heart. H. was just quickly and expediently evicted...and arrived with a lot of hair and the sweetest little face. Upon his arrival, I talked to my mom and said 'he's so, so cute...but he doesn't look anything like B.'. She would agree with me in person a week later when she arrived to help out. He peed all over her the first time she changed his diaper - and that simple act fits him perfectly - he's sweetness incarnate with a bit of spunk mixed in just to keep you on your toes. He had all of us wrapped around his little finger from the moment he was born - and no one more so than my mother. She adored him. She adored B., too - but babies were her thing and H. was a cutie patootie and she doted on him from the minute she set eyes on him.

B. was often referred to as a 'beautiful' baby - and he was. H. was just plain cute - his little nose, his head of thick, dark hair. He was far more stoic than his brother - he rarely smiled for cameras - B. would light up like a fire cracker if you pointed a camera his way. H. would look at you like 'what?' most of the time and it took a lot of cajoling to get him to smile. Most photographers (including us) just gave up and settled for a picture of him looking at you all 'pouty'....like 'can we just get this over with now, please'. It became his trademark...and still fits him. He's pretty shy in many ways - avoids the spotlight. Doesn't like to be in front of a crowd. Even family - he's reserved and quiet and introspective - all in good ways.

It is hard for me to look at him today and see how fast time has passed. He's close to six feet tall already and still growing. Dark, thick hair (like his father's) with the famous [insert our last name] eyebrows - the kind that give Andy Rooney on 60 Minutes a run for their money. H. hates them and wants to have them waxed....and I think 'oh, please don't be the kind of 'Gen-X'r' guy that gets his eyebrows done. It just isn't natural for a guy to WAX his eyebrows. They give H. character...and they fit his face....his lovely, sweet, handsome face. The only thing he got from me are hazel eyes - which change color (like mine) depending on what he's wearing. Some days, steel blue. Other days, pale gray. Sometimes bright green. He says they drive the ladies wild...and I can understand that since he is so incredibly handsome...

My baby is sixteen today. I remember thinking 'when B. graduates from high school, H. will be sixteen and I'll be one year away from being 50'. All those thoughts ran through my head this time sixteen years ago...and fast forward in what seems like a blink of an eye - and here we are. It shocks me....

I'm not melancholy at all today, though this post sure seems like I am. I'm not. He's a wonderful son who makes me proud everyday. He's got a great heart and a kind soul. He wants to enlist in the Marines when he graduates from high school and then go to college after. He feels called to serve - and I'm starting to 'see' that it's something he feels strongly he needs to do. I admire that about him. And I will let him go because like any parent, I want my children to find their bliss in whatever way they feel will bring them satisfaction and joy. That's all I want for them - to find joy in their life and to do good work.

This is my favorite picture of H., taken when he was approaching 2. This is his typical reaction to cameras of any kind - and one of many pictures we have of him as a baby with no smile. I love this one....

Happy 16th, my sweet boy. I love you more than words can express and I am very proud of you.