Back From the Grave

I have been sick in the past two weeks. When I say sick, I mean oh-God-this-must-be-what-dying-feels-like kind of sick. Never knew that some virus as unglamorous as the flu could cause me this much trouble. February is short enough as it is, and I get whacked with this bug. I have been cold and miserable with an unending supply of mucus. I just want to finally kick this bug out of my system and crush it with my foot.

As much as it feels like winter has been dragging on forever, I'm surprised to realize that it will be March in a couple of days. Just turning my calendar to the March page brings a promise that the days will be warmer again. Spring will be around the corner and soon the neighborhood will come to life. I just can't wait. I feel that my family have been cooped up indoors for far too long. Unlike our other friends and neighbors, we do not have a long and grand vacation to look forward to. However, the anticipation for Spring is still very much alive within me. My children can finally play in the yard without tripping over because of their bulky clothing. I can finally get some sun and hopefully bring a little color to my pallid (and back-from-the dead) complexion. Finally, I can open up the windows to let out the stale and virus-infected air that has been circulating in my home for far too long. Now, that's probably worth clawing my way back from the grave for.

The First Four Years

At about this time four years ago was one of the bleakest moments in my life. It can even be said that my hubby and I went through one of the most challenging times in our early married life. Four years ago, hubby has been out of a job for nearly two months, we were rapidly eating through our savings and I was figuratively and literally heavily (carrying an extra 55 pounds on me) pregnant. On the other hand, on exactly this day, four years ago, God gave us an overwhelmingly beautiful gift. On February 8, AJ entered our lives. To be more specific, on Feb 8, 2002 my life added yet another texture. I became a mom.

I can still vividly recall the first time that I met this little fellow. I first heard a few squeaks when the OB cut off our cord. Then I saw him being whisked off to a table by the corner. He was quietly taking in his new surroundings as the nurse was taking in vitals under the bright lights that warmed him up to soften the blow of leaving his rather snug cocoon. Little trooper that he was, AJ did not cry after those first squeaks. Rather, with his tiny eyes and furrowed brow, he was quietly checking out his new surroundings just as I was studying him from my spot in the room.

Let me risk the possbility of public flogging by candidly saying that there seemed to be no "Johnson's Moment" for me during that first minute of seeing AJ. Rather, there was just a seemingly detached curiousity at this being that I had nurtured within me for nine long months. However, once he was given to me all clean and bundled up, this amazing emotion took root within me. Later on that evening, when his daddy had gone home for the night and it was just the two of us, I fell in love. In that special hour, I was cradling the perfect child in my arms. No baby could be as beautiful as mine. Oh and the look that he gave me can still give me goosebups. His eyes were so trusting. He seemed simultaneously innocent and all-knowing. In that moment when all was silent in the room and we were undisturbed, it was as if AJ was saying, "I know you. You're my Mommy. I love you, please love me too." The sheer explosion of emotion that burst through me would've sent me to my knees had I not been lying in bed. Here he was finally, my AJ. He'd gone through the same rollercoaster ride that his daddy and I have been through for nearly a year. I felt that no one has been that intimate with me, with my emotions, with my very being, than this little hapless soul that's trying to be comfortable in the new world that he's been thrown in. Then the reality that I am now a parent sunk in. It's both overwhelming and humbling to know that I would be primarily responsible for this child's life. I wasn't sure if I was cut to the task of being a mom. Let me correct myself, I was sure that no matter how I tried I could not be a good mother to my child. I was too uncertain and zero experience, and now I'm supposed to raise a child?

Needless to say, the past four years have been an adventure. By now, I am resigned that this wild ride is one for keeps. Four years. Two words that do not seem to measure the richness of my experience just by being a mom. Four years seem so short yet it also feels like it has been forever. My AJ is now a sweet and playful little boy. He is both eager to please those he loves, but can also be as stubborn as a rock (daddy's genes!). As I was hugging AJ before he went off to bed, I look back at how much we've both grown and changed since we first met. Motherhood has brought out the best, and shamefully sometimes the worst, in me. Moms like me will agree that we will go through hell's recesses for our children. However, there have been moments that I wondered if God and the devil are both laughing at the joke of making a mom out of me. AJ, like the trooper that he's always been, seems to just let the bad times slide and hangs on to the good times.

When AJ blew out the candles on his birthday cake (or rather the slice of his pie --- we had lunch out with Daddy), I couldn't help but make a metaphor out of it. It seemed that he was blowing his baby days behind him and is now ready to make that eager leap into being a kid. Maybe it's also a good time for me to blow out the candles on my cake. Not to count off the years I've lived, but to count off the time since I've become a mom. Happy fourth birthday, AJ!