Halfway

Today is Josh's birthday. He is turning 9. NINE. I can hardly believe it. I remember the moment I found out I was pregnant with him. I remember the first time I felt him move in my belly. I remember lying on the operating table and hearing him cry for the first time. I remember the first time I fed him and changed his diaper and looked into his eyes. I remember the long nights standing, half asleep, rocking him in my arms trying to get him to sleep. I remember his first word, his first steps, his first birthday. I remember his first day of school, the first time he read to me, the first time he rode his big boy bike. And I remember the last bottle I fed him and the last night he slept in his crib. But I didn't notice the last time I helped him take a bath or the last time he called me mommy instead of mom or the last time I picked out his clothes for him. And I don't remember the last time he curled up in my lap to read a story. So, I hope that today, as he turns nine, I will remember to pay attention and notice those lasts because really, they are as important as the firsts.



Last week as I was thinking about his birthday and making preparations for his party, I realized that he is turning nine. And nine is halfway to 18. And 18 is when he is officially an adult and should be able to make his own decisions. And he is halfway there. And I am halfway there. I have used up half my time with him to help him become who he was meant to be. I have spent half of his childhood loving him and moulding him into the person he will become. I have to wonder if I've done justice to the gift that he is. To the soul that his not so little body contains. Have I been the mother I should be for him? The answer is no. I have failed so many times. But the answer is also yes. Because I have tried to love him and guide him as best I can. So today, as my firstborn reaches the halfway mark, I will pray especially hard that I will have the wisdom I need for the second half.