It happened the moment he was born. Well, actually, it was before that. It was shortly after we decided to try one more time to complete our family with a son. We had two beautiful daughters who could share clothes and toys and grow up as best friends, and we were content with our family of four. We fit comfortably in our small sedan, a three-bedroom house was just the right size, and when we went for walks, each parent had a hand to hold when we crossed the street. Our two bicycles had two bike carriers, and our toothbrush holder housed four toothbrushes. Truly, America was made for families of four.
But there was this nagging desire lurking deep inside to have one more child. Actually, it was me more than Flyboy. He was completely content with our little family, but I, having had two brothers, felt it important to give it one more shot. If we had another girl, we would love her with every fiber of our being, as we already loved Girlfriend and Elasti-girl. And then we would stop, no matter what. But what if...there was, after all, a 50-50 chance we'd have a boy. And, now that Flyboy wasn't flying jets anymore, our odds might have actually been better than before.
And then it happened. From the moment I found out I was pregnant that third time, I was already in love with this new little person - whether it was a boy or a girl. Ultrasounds were pretty unreliable thirty years ago, and we decided to wait until delivery day instead of wondering if we'd gotten the right information. When that day arrived, planned in advance (I'd had two prior c-sections), we checked into the hospital and were greeted by a man in scrubs, sporting a beard and a ponytail. My doctor was no where to be seen, and this man said he was covering for him. Truly, he looked more like a janitor than an obstetrician. But at 38 weeks, I decided to believe him and have a little faith that God was really in charge, no matter what the doctor looked like.
We talked through what was about to happen, and a few hours later, we were heading to pre-op. Having been unconscious for the first two deliveries, I was a little apprehensive about being awake this time. But Dr. Ponytail assured me it was in the best interest of the baby, and I proceeded to get a *spinal block*, as they called it then. Next stop, the operating room, where Dr. Ponytail was soon announcing we had a son, and I was seeing the proof for myself before they knocked me out to finish the surgery. Flyboy was waiting in the hall, where his new son was brought out, wrapped in a blanket.
We had our boy. And he was a big one, at 8 lbs 9 oz at 38 weeks.
This one was a cuddler, and he spent many hours in my arms, particularly at night, where we watched Kojak reruns to pass the time until he got the memo that nighttime is for sleeping. He preferred my company above all others, was my constant companion, and we called him my little Klingon.
Today, Bamm-Bamm is thirty years old. Now that I no longer have any children under the age of thirty, I wonder where the time went...wasn't it just yesterday that he was dismantling his sisters' tape player? That he was clomping around in his cowboy boots, not ever wanting to take them off? That he was breaking the car window with a hammer before he was two? That he took off for Joey's house one boring day - eight miles away? That his dad was coaching his first football team? That he was learning how to play the trumpet and wowing us with his musical ability?
We have really come full circle. And it took what happened yesterday to make me really realize it. Bamm-Bamm had a meeting with a client at a business near where I work. He called me, and stopped in, looking quite dashing in his suit and tie, and I took him on a tour, showing him off to all of my co-workers. He was making one good impression after another, and we made one final stop, where the last introduction took place. She smiled, with a little twinkle in her eye, and asked Bamm-Bamm, "are you the naughty one?" I felt like he'd been kicked in the stomach. I didn't know what to say...how do you recover from that? I was dumbfounded, my mind reeling, trying to remember what I could have said sometime in the past to cause her to ask such a question. I tried to breathe...tried to think...and then I heard Bamm-Bamm's unflapped voice, answering with a little chuckle, "Yes, I guess that would be me." He chatted, seemingly unaffected, until we continued our walk through the building. "I am so sorry," I said, fighting back the tears. He put his arm around me, smiled, and said, "It's okay, Mom. Really. Don't worry about it."
And that's when it hit me.
I no longer see Bamm-Bamm through a lens filtered by the past. The past is in the past and it doesn't even matter any more. There was a time when the pain of the past was a companion I longed to be free of. There was a time when the joy of the present reminded me that things weren't always this good, and a little of the pain lingered.
No longer. Today, I see my son - the man I always knew he would become - a devoted husband and father, a hard worker, a passionate man of conviction. In the past few years, when I would tell him how proud I was, it was in the vain of what he had overcome. I AM proud of what he has overcome. But now, the past is no longer in my periphery vision. Today, when I tell my son how proud I am of him, it's no longer because he's not who he was - it is because of who he is. It's not even because of what he has done by excelling at his job (which he has) - it's because of who he is on the inside. It's because he has the heart of a warrior and is loyal to the death. It's because when you ask him for ten push-ups he'll give you twenty. It's because when God put it on his heart to wear a toga and play the part of Pontius Pilate when he didn't want to, he said yes and did an amazing job. It's because he looks people in the eye and can talk to anybody. It's because he brings out the best in the people who work for him. It's because he is determined to be the best person he can be.
Bamm-Bamm, I love it that you still hug me every time we see one another. I love watching you love Pebbles and be such a great dad to Peanut. I love you for now and forever, and I'm so glad you are our son.
Happy birthday.
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