Today you are one year old.
You don’t know what it means, and you don’t really care. You’re too little to even have a clue. But it means a lot to me and your dad.
I remember the night I found out I was expecting you. Honestly, it wasn’t good. Your dad and I had decided we didn’t want any more children. Between the two of us, we already sort of had six–your older brother, his two older sisters, your older sister that I relinquished for adoption twelve years ago, her younger brother, and of course, the Little Goddess, the older sister that you love so much now. Of course, only one of those six children lived with us, but still, we see them all and love them all, but we figured that that was just enough. No more kids.
Then one day, I woke up and I couldn’t button my jeans. Then I remembered that hey, my monthly visitor hadn’t shown up last month. I put it down to PMS. I’ve skipped them before and not been pregnant. So, I sent your dad to the drugstore to get a home test. That little thing turned blue so flippin’ fast I was stunned.
Your dad and I talked a lot that night, and I talked to your grandma too. Your dad and I were just two steps away from not having you. But your wonderful grandma just asked me to sit down and think for a minute. Just settle down, and think before I did anything. It was still early, and I had a few weeks to decide. So, we did. I realized that the only reasons I could come up with for not having you were purely selfish. Not good enough, in our opinion. So, two days later, on your sister’s 2nd birthday, I went to the doctor and got a blood test. Later that afternoon, I got the call. Yep, you were coming. And we were happy.
But your grandfather, your dad’s dad, was dying. He had cancer. He knew he wasn’t going to get to see you ever, so we made a decision. We didn’t know if you were going to be a boy or a girl, but we decided that if you were going to be a boy, we’d give you his name. I had a feeling that you were going to be a boy, so I never even chose a girl’s name. Then we went to visit your grandpa, when I was four months pregnant with you. We told your grandpa what we were going to do, and he cried. He was so happy. He said “I’ve always hoped that one of my kids would do that.”
A week later, we got an ultrasound, and yep, you’re a boy. We called your grandpa that night, and told him. He was so very happy. A couple of days later, he slipped in to a coma, and then two weeks after that, he passed away. But he died knowing that he was going to have a grandson with his name. John. A good, strong name.
On the way home from the hospital after you were born, we stopped to visit my grandma. She’d been sick too. We didn’t tell her we were coming–we surprised her. Oh, did that ever make her day. We’ve got a beautiful picture of her holding you. She fell and broke her arm two days later, and had to go to the hospital. That was when they found out she had advanced bone cancer, and only had a few weeks left. She never came out of the hospital, except when they moved her to Hospice. She saw you one more time, just a few hours before she died. That picture was placed in her coffin, and she took it with her.
This first year of yours has had some very sad things happen. But the sadness has been eased by the joy that you have brought us. You are a beautiful little boy. I’m so glad you’re here. Happy Birthday, my son. Mama & Daddy love you so much.
