A Different Journey to Becoming a Mom
It started with a phone call instead of labor pains.
My oldest son’s birthday is on the horizon. Though he’s well into adulthood, I vividly remember his second birthday party. I had been desperately sick with the worst case of strep throat I’d ever experienced, but there was no way I was missing my first chance to throw my kid a birthday party. I don’t know how or if his first birthday was celebrated because he came to live with us when he was 18 months old.
So, overdosed on antibiotics and fever reducers, we packed the kid, the decorations, the cake, and a trunk full of gifts for the two-hour drive back to our hometown to celebrate with family and friends. I know he doesn’t remember that day, but I remember it in vivid detail. He wore Oshkosh B’gosh overalls and Lion King sneakers as he tore through the play equipment at the park with his cousins. It’s embarrassing to remember how many presents he opened that day — a typical over-the-top response from first-time parents.
There were many more birthday celebrations after that, but time has stolen many details. Not that one, though — that second birthday was our first.
As we move into my story of becoming a mom, it inevitably crosses the boundary of telling part of my son’s story. Please know he’s specifically given…
