A very special day...

My baby boy turned six today, and my what a day it was!

It started off with opening a single birthday gift (just to buy us a little more sleep). Then we went ahead with what is becoming my favorite birthday tradition. I told Dylan the story of the day he was born. I do it every year, and each year the kids get a few more details. The favorites this year were how my water broke on the landing and the carpet got all wet and how Dylan pooped while he was still inside my tummy. He thought both of those things were hilarious. Oh, and that we stopped to buy icecream on our way to the hospital.

We were supposed to go to the Doncaster Dome for swimming, then lunch and a movie. Got a nice, early start, too. But our car broke down on the way there. Luckily we hadn't gotten very far, so Lewis came and picked me and the kids up while Martin waited for the AA to arrive. We regrouped at home and took the bus in to Hull (alternator went, in case anyone was dying to know). We got our lunch and watched Smurfs 2 (Dylan's choice). Then it was back to Barton, a scooter ride to the Leisure Centre for swimming lessons, and home again for a small dinner party of Martin's parents, his grandparents, me, the kids, and Amy. Martin took the morning off, but had to go in to work at five.

Chicken noodle soup was devoured, cake was enjoyed, toys were played with, goodbyes were said, kids were tucked up in bed, and here I am--alone, exhausted, and happy.

Becoming a mother has not been an easy journey for me. Getting pregnant was difficult. Pregnancy was stressful. Childbirth was impossible. Surgery was painful and disappointing. Staying home with a newborn was stiflingly boring. Post partum depression was crippling. And yet, as with most things in life, the hard things often turn out to be the best.

I am so proud of my son. He is bright and beautiful, sensitive, kind, perceptive, and so very smart! And though he was born with a lot of those traits, I know that Martin and I can take partial credit for the way he is growing up and turning out. Most of the time, though, I wonder that I was so blessed to be his mother. He has taught me so many lessons. I've learned more about patience and unconditional love from him than I have from any other person or event in my life. And he teaches me every day. Sometimes the lessons he teaches me are hard ones to learn, about my own weaknesses and failings as a person and as a parent. But I love him for those lessons all the same.

I still remember the night I found out I was pregnant. I cried tears of joy. I often think back to those times when I used to lie in bed feeling him roll around inside me, watching the taut skin on my belly ripple and wave like a flag in the breeze. I had so many expectations about motherhood. So many dreams and fantasies. Then Dylan was born, and nothing was like I expected it to be. It was so much harder.

But it was infinitely better...