Dear Baby of Mine

Dear Tim

You are my baby.  You are the one who made my dreams of having a full fledged family complete.

For years, for so many sad and stressful years, I wanted to be a Momma.  I wanted a baby. Just one little baby to love forever.  I wanted that one gift more than anything that I have ever wanted, with more power, more pain, more depth of yearning.  But month after month, year into year, my dream eluded me.

Then, after countless tears and wishes and treatments and therapy sessions, my Katie was born and I could finally call myself a “Mommy”.

It took almost three more years of doctors and wishes and prayers and more treatments and drugs that made me crazy before we finally had Matt.  And life was complete. A girl, a boy, a real live family.

But inside my heart, deep inside where no one else can see, I still wished for a third baby. I wished for a baby who came to me naturally, and easily.  A baby whose name and gender would be a gift at the moment of his birth, instead of information gained through an ultrasound test.

I wanted one who could tie us all together in a big bow.  A baby who came into the world just because he could. Timmy, I wanted you.

And so you came to be.  The ease of your arrival, the joy of your birth, are only matched by the sweetness of your spirit.

While I was in labor with you, I was listening to music (Pachelbel’s Canon!), eating chocolate, and joking with Aunt Liz. With you, I wasn’t scared, and I knew that I could meet the challenge of bringing you into the world.  I wished for you, I worked for you, and there you were!

I looked into your little face that morning, twenty long years ago, and saw your dimpled cheek and your tiny fingers and I fell completely and hopelessly in love.

For twenty years, I have watched you grow.  I have seen your humor, your intelligence, your kindness, your mischief.  I have lost sleep while you wheezed and gasped for air.  I have frowned at your elementary school antics, worried about your Middle School adventures with seventh grade teachers, held my breath as you learned to play ice hockey.  I have comforted you when you were upset, cheered you when you were successful, supported you when you have challenged yourself.

Mostly, though, sweet baby boy, I have loved you from the moment that I became aware of your existence.

No, that’s wrong: I have loved you from the moment I first dreamed of the very idea of you.

Happy 2oth birthday to my son.  Musician, student, writer, thinker, brother and son extraordinaire.  Happy 2oth birthday to Tim.

My beautiful boy

14 thoughts on “Dear Baby of Mine

  1. The tears are flowing as I read your beautiful tribute to your wonderful son…your son who was so wonderful and caring to befriend a scared city boy on his first day in the 3rd grade, a day when the new kid knew no one and had to try to find his way, fit in and make friends with children who had been together for 4 years already. I will always be grateful to Tim for being my son’s first friend in town and for still being his friend. You have a special boy who I have watched become a remarkable man, but just once, I would really love to watch these two 6 foot, 200 lb boys kneel down in the hallway one last time for a game of mini hockey.


    • Aw, now I’m crying! Where did the time go, Beth?!
      And I have to laugh when I read my glowing little post; note that I didn’t mention the times that Jake and Tim were sent to the office for those “hockey fights” in class, or the late nights waiting for him to come home, or a dozen other things. Oh, those rose colored glasses!!


      • God bless our rose colored glasses. As long as the good times and memories outweigh the bad, we’re good! That’s my philosophy, and I’m sticking to it and living it!


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