Happy Birthday, Robert

My! My! My!  It's been an incredibly long time since I've posted to my journal.  I can't believe this!  and I have so much to say . . .

Yesterday was my son Robert's birthday.  He was 40 years old.  You can learn more about Bob and me on my other journal.  He's a special kind of son for me.  You see, I gave birth to him when I was 16 years old.  There's not enough room here to tell the story, but suffice it to say:  you can get pregnant the very first time!

I dreaded and looked forward to his birth.  I was terrified because I truly was just a little girl.  I know 16 year-olds today are really mature, but I was far from that.  I still wanted to play with dolls.  I also wanted what all teens want - to be grown up.  I just went about it all bass-ackwards. 

The night Robert was born, I lay in a very dark room laboring hard.  I felt very alone and wanted my mom.  Things were happening to me that I'd been taugt about but couldn't really understand.  A nurse would pop in from time to time and check on my progress.  She didn't even bother to turn the light on.  At some point, she came in and put me on a gurney and rolled me into the other room.  The lights there were so bright!  Someone made me roll on my side and they injected my back with something and I lost all feeling from my bellybutton to my toes.  The doctor pushed on my belly and out came a little boy.  I wasn't allowed to lift my head to look at him.  They whisked him off and the doctor finished his work with me and out I went.

Next day, I wept like a baby.  I wanted to see my son!  I knew I was going to give him up for adoption, but I wanted to see who I gave birth to.  It wasn't allowed.  We had to lay flat for 36 hours.  I told my mom and sister I just couldn't give him away.  I cried more.  They cried.  They said it was my decision.  Later in the day, a nurse came in and proudly announced, "Your SON weighed 6 lbs 13 oz and is 19 inches long."  That made it worse!  I spent a miserable night.

Next day, I was allowed to walk to the nursery to see him.  He was beautiful!  He looked like our family.  I still say he was the best looking one in the nursery.  I was proud.

Because I had agreed to put him up for adoption, he would be taken from the hospital one day ahead of me.  Even if I changed my mind, this would happen.  So when they got ready to take him, I was told I could go and hold him. 

The hallway seemed very long, the holding room small.  Once there, I was handed a baby in a yellow blanket.  I unwrapped him and looked at his fingers and toes (they were tiny but beautiful) and even checked his diaper to see that all the equipment was there.  He was soft and every time I touched his face, he would turn toward my hand.  I felt a bit detached.  All the emotion I'd had right after his birth was spent.  I knew that there was no way I could care for him.  I knew I had to let him go . . .

For years I wondered who he had become, but believed that his privacy was of the utmost.  I would never have looked for him, but when he reached majority, I would make myself available if he looked for me. 

He looked.  Before it was time, he looked.  He found me.  I was given a gift by God.  He has a great family.  Actually, he has a bunch of family!  He has the family who adopted him, and those of us who let him go.  He's found us all. 

If that's not a miracle, I don't know what is.  Space and time separates us, but heart-strings can't be cut.

Thank you, God.

Happy Birthday, Son.  I love you.