A Mother's Day Letter to my Son.

It was March 24th 1994 and the ground outside was covered with snow and ice. I was two weeks past my delivery date when my labor started around three o'clock in the afternoon. Your dad cancelled his calls for the rest of the day and rushed home to get me to the hospital. It was freezing outside and a sheet of ice on the sidewalks so your dad slowly helped me get to the car. We headed for Trenton State Hospital, both of us excited and nervous. We brought the boombox with us so that I could listen to music while I was in labor. I had already decided what I wanted to listen to...Kenny G.

I labored for eleven hours as I tried to coax you out. Your dad stayed by my side and did his best not to worry. Eleven hours and counting and finally you were ready. I had looked forward to this day for such a long time. I couldn't wait to hold you; you were already two weeks past the expected due date!

Then a snag, a hiccup and my plans changed. You breathed in more than air as you made your way out, putting you at risk for pneumonia and death. The midwife let me hold you for a few seconds and then you were placed in an incubator next to me to be sent to ICU.

I turned and put my hand on the plexiglass and as if you knew I was there, you lifted your tiny arm and your newborn hand pressed against the other side on top of mine. I felt a flash of knowing and in that moment I heard the words, "Its okay mom, I'm going to be okay", and you looked directly at me through the barrier. I was overcome with love and cried as they quickly took you to ICU.

My labor was unusually stressful. Eleven hours isn't that bad, but for nine hours I experienced contractions a minute apart. I was exhausted and emotionally depleted. After the delivery, the placenta did not want to come out. It became risky for me after about thirty minutes so they called in an ER OB/GYN. Then I found out that was not the most painful thing a mother can experience. The doctor, without more than a brief warning, reached in with his hand and yanked out the placenta. I felt as though my insides had just been ripped out of me.

To this day, I can honestly say it was the most physically painful experience of my life. I fell into oblivion and slept for a solid twenty-four hours. Your dad kept watch over you in ICU the first day and then went home to sleep. My first thought when I awoke was of you. I was scared that somebody would come in and tell me you didn't make it. Later that afternoon I finally got to go see you. The nurses wheeled me down because I was still so sore.

There you were, a tiny, bald baby with patches of dry skin peeling off your little arms and legs, but to me....the most beautiful baby in the world. You had little stork bite marks on your face and a little birthmark on the back of your head, now covered by hair, then you opened your eyes and none of that mattered.

They handed you to me and I took you into my arms and rocked you. Your eyes looked up at me as I talked to you and I felt a wave of calm. After all you had been through to be born, you actually gained weight in ICU, something that almost never happens. The nurses put a little sign on your incubator that read, "Piglet" because your appetite was so good. You went from six pounds and thirteen ounces to seven pounds and six ounces on your fourth day. You set a new record at Trenton State Hospital.

The third night they moved me to a bedroom for parents right next to ICU because you were going home the next day and they needed the patient room. I remember how it felt to take you out of the ICU and into that little bedroom. It was our first moment alone together. I laid you gently on the bed while I got my things together to go home.

They say babies cannot smile until at least six weeks of age. Well, I believe you smiled at me that morning. I was talking to you as I packed and looked over at you and told you I love you and that everything was going to be fine. Right at that moment, you turned your head slightly, looked directly at me and smiled. I felt the hairs rise up on my arms and I knew, no matter what anyone would ever tell me, that you knew I was your mother and you knew my voice. I still believe that.

Now at twenty-seven, you are a man I am deeply proud of. You are responsible, loving, compassionate and such a good man! I am so blessed to have the privilege of being your mother. We had our ups and downs and our share of arguments as you grew, but the good times far outweigh the challenges life threw us. I look forward to seeing you become the wonderful father I know you will be.

I'm so proud to call you son, friend and teacher. I've watched you grow and flourish and watched you stumble and fall, but I was always with you and I always will be. No matter how old you become, I will forever be your mother and you will always be my son.

Love, Mom