This morning, Little Man bounded into my room -- wide awake and full of excitement because, as he put it, "I can't believe tomorrrow we'll have a baby!"
So he came in for a cuddle with me, possibly our last one of just the two of us, and we talked.
In moments like these, when he's doing his best to share his feelings and ideas and views of life and the world at large with me -- I marvel at my son.
He is sweet and funny and intelligent. His thought process is certainly his own and I can't always follow the connections he makes but he's interesting. His views are original.
And I am so honoured, proud and, frankly, blessed to be his Mom.
Ever since I had my Little Man I have felt that he has given my life purpose. That I was meant and chosen to be his Mom and that he would thrive and grow and learn because of our special connection.
And that feeling preceeded his diagnosis of autism.
When I look back at my childhood, the one main dream that I held onto was being a Mom someday.
When I was 13 or 14 and my family DR told my parents and I at the time that I would likely never be able to carry a child to term because of my heart issues, it tore me up but I felt certain he was wrong.
As a teen, I still envisioned myself of being the Mom of 3. Always 3. A girl first, then a boy and then a smaller child of indeterminate gender.
When I had Little Man, and it was so tramuatic and terrifying and I was praying that I'd make it through and be able to be there for my baby... and I was told no more babies... well, that time I did think that it was the truth. Especially because Little Man was a male and not the female child I always thought I was going to have first.
And here I am now, with my step-daughter, Rhyme Girl the oldest, Little Man and now this secretive baby-on-the-way.
It's what I always pictured.
But during my sweet conversation with Little Man this morning, I began to worry... Above all else in life -- I want to be here for him and I hope I am not risking that tomorrow when I go in for my RCS.
That being said, I cannot believe that the universe would give me this gift, this opportunity, this miracle of a baby that I am carrying just to take me away from all my kids but I wanted to write about how I am feeling anyway.
Bottom line: I love my kids. The one that was born from me, the one I shall birth tomorrow and the one I carry in my heart even though she's only been in my life as long as T. has.
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Edited to add: Yesterday when I picked Little Man up at school, he said, "I was hoping someone else was picking me up because that would mean you were in labour!"
He also told me, "I'm going to love the baby more than you will, Mom."
me: "Why do you think that?"
LM: "Because kids love things way more than adults do."
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One more addition:
After I wrote this post this morning, just before we left for me to take Little Man to school, he gave me the biggest hug and said, "I love you more than anything in the whole wide world. Than in the universe!"
And I hugged him back and said I loved him that same way. And that I would forever, no matter what.
And he said, "Even if you're in Heaven?"
And I said, "Yes, but let's hope I'm not going there for a very long time."
And he said, "OK, not for a thousand trillion years."
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