I believe I've 'bout cured anyone of reading this, and that's good. Typing is faster than writing my fingers can almost keep up with my brain.
Today I received news of my 1st born. Looks like he is staying for quite a while longer far-far away and across the sea.
I've said numerous times that I did not birth them, my sons, to be cannon fodder, and I meant it! But, I've grown so "accustomed to (their) faces" that to be without is like walking around with a gigantic hole in my heart that simply sits there empty.
I want to be excited, thrilled for him, for his opportunities, for his creative, impassioned intellect, but I simply miss him so very much.
Crazy. I only want each to be completely happy.
Life serves up these odd moments of quiet. Just before Chris got this job offer Raul was traveling extensively, and John was well wrapped up in summer school and then off to NYC and moving in with his dad, and lo' and behold, Chris and I spent some really nice time walking and talking and hanging out.
Now we will likely never have time together like that again.
He will stay for another few years, at least, in Japan, there he will again fall in love, for he, like his mother can not help but do so.
He will have a family and if we're lucky, he'll bring them back to be nearer to us.
But even that is not a likely possibility, only a hope.
I miss him, I miss his brother, daily, it is a growing ache.
It is life.
You want them to go out and venture forth on their own and be who it is they wish to be.
That is what being a parent is about.
All I can say is "phone home" and "ouch".
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Monday, February 8, 2010
My boys...
Holding Christopher at home in my apartment on the 1st floor of the building and wondering what I would do to protect him from "intruders" as I sat there fresh from the birthing process my own damn self, and figuring that IF he were sleeping I might fit him into one of his father's cast off shoe boxes in the back of the closet and that would keep him safe while they (the intruders) murdered me, but at least he'd be safe and out of harms way...
I know, weirdo, you are thinking... but at least I wasn't booby trapping the windows and doors. I was simply sitting there, holding that sleeping infant, uncontrollably weeping as he slept, at just how much (unspeakable, unfathomable amounts)
I loved him, and how I wasn't going to be able to protect him from everything, but I was going to very damn well try.
And, now he is more than 1/2 way around the world if you head East - if you head West, well then he is much closer...
And, how did I feel when I held John in my arms? I felt awkward, and anxious...
I held John almost a full 24 hours before I realized that I hadn't actually really touched his skin... save his lips to my nipples for nursing. I realized that maybe I hadn't touched John because I was afraid of betraying Christopher, were I to properly bond with this new baby and welcome him into my heart, I might be squishing Chris out. But, I knew how much I loved the 1st born, and I was already loving my second.
And, so, carefully and with full conscious consideration, I unwrapped John from his blankets and laid his mostly (save diaper) bare body against my own, with his head at my heart, and his body nestled between my breasts, and his toes around my navel, and I stroked and caressed him, as he slept and softly snored (mmhm, even little babies snore). And, I again cried at my ridiculous selfishness.
I held John and knew as I had always known that there was room enough for both in my heart.
To watch each grow has been an amazing adventure. They can be so different and yet the friendship they share, at times, leaves me sobbing for joy. They enjoy each other, they laugh, and have "in-jokes" and quote lines from movies and poems and songs at each other, and when they get angry with each other and they do, they seem to have room enough to forgive one another and move on. They are a continual gift, a continuing privilege, regular moments of bliss.
My two very different, very unique, very wonderful little boys, who've now grown to big and almost big men. I still can not protect them from "all things". I can not protect their hearts from aching, I can not protect their bodies from injury as I could when they were little (for the most part), I can not force anyone else to love them or appreciate them or value them as I do.
What I can do is love them and appreciate them and enjoy them and let them know, as often as they'll allow, just exactly how amazing I find them to be. I can encourage them to pursue their dreams, and acknowledge their talents and abilities.
And, so I try, and I endeavor, and I attempt the same.
I know, weirdo, you are thinking... but at least I wasn't booby trapping the windows and doors. I was simply sitting there, holding that sleeping infant, uncontrollably weeping as he slept, at just how much (unspeakable, unfathomable amounts)
I loved him, and how I wasn't going to be able to protect him from everything, but I was going to very damn well try.
And, now he is more than 1/2 way around the world if you head East - if you head West, well then he is much closer...
And, how did I feel when I held John in my arms? I felt awkward, and anxious...
I held John almost a full 24 hours before I realized that I hadn't actually really touched his skin... save his lips to my nipples for nursing. I realized that maybe I hadn't touched John because I was afraid of betraying Christopher, were I to properly bond with this new baby and welcome him into my heart, I might be squishing Chris out. But, I knew how much I loved the 1st born, and I was already loving my second.
And, so, carefully and with full conscious consideration, I unwrapped John from his blankets and laid his mostly (save diaper) bare body against my own, with his head at my heart, and his body nestled between my breasts, and his toes around my navel, and I stroked and caressed him, as he slept and softly snored (mmhm, even little babies snore). And, I again cried at my ridiculous selfishness.
I held John and knew as I had always known that there was room enough for both in my heart.
To watch each grow has been an amazing adventure. They can be so different and yet the friendship they share, at times, leaves me sobbing for joy. They enjoy each other, they laugh, and have "in-jokes" and quote lines from movies and poems and songs at each other, and when they get angry with each other and they do, they seem to have room enough to forgive one another and move on. They are a continual gift, a continuing privilege, regular moments of bliss.
My two very different, very unique, very wonderful little boys, who've now grown to big and almost big men. I still can not protect them from "all things". I can not protect their hearts from aching, I can not protect their bodies from injury as I could when they were little (for the most part), I can not force anyone else to love them or appreciate them or value them as I do.
What I can do is love them and appreciate them and enjoy them and let them know, as often as they'll allow, just exactly how amazing I find them to be. I can encourage them to pursue their dreams, and acknowledge their talents and abilities.
And, so I try, and I endeavor, and I attempt the same.
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