A season of firsts

We are beginning a season of 'firsts' for our family.......our first Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Year's without Ian; the first scholarship given out in his memory, the first anniversary of his death.  We start all these with Ian's first birthday since he died - this Wednesday, October 24th; he would have been 20 years old.  He shares that birthday with both of his great-grandmothers - Alice and Ardith.  I like to thank that he'll be celebrating with them this year - so he'll still be with family.

It's funny that I remember the day he was born so clearly but then I remember all the births of my kids very clearly.  Ian was my only child to arrive on his due date - Alex & Amy wanted to 'bake' a while longer.  At 8lbs., 2 ozs., Ian was also my smallest baby.  My folks were coming over from Bakersfield for the day just in case Ian decided to make his appearance.  Eric was installing cement walkways in front of our old house on Ronald Place and I decided to take Alex & Amy on a walk (or waddle) around the block to try and help things along (I had already scrubbing floors by hand and other various tasks to try and get him here).  All of that must have worked since my water broke after I got home.  I remember calling Dr. Callahan and telling him my water has either broken or I've lost all bladder control.  Amy made her appearance in under 2 hours from start to finish, so I informed Eric that we needed to get to the hospital (Ian was also my only child born at the hospital - I had Alex & Amy at the, now closed, birthing center).  He wanted to know if he had time to finish the cement - I don't remember my exact reply but it was probably something sarcastic.

Luckily, my mom and dad arrived very soon after that and they were greeted with "Oh good, you're here - we're going to the hospital".  They were thrilled.  Eric & I took off for Marian and the labor pains didn't start until we were on the elevator.  As we were standing at the check-in counter upstairs, we kept hearing these LOUD utterances from the room next to the counter.  Anything you ever heard from a woman in labor in a movie or TV show was coming from that room; "Just get it out!!!", "I can't do this!", "OOOOOOO!" - it was amazing.  We got checked into a room around the corner, but not out of earshot.  I told Eric, I was not making a sound - and I didn't.  Ian was born less than 1-1/2 hours later with this perfectly shaped round head full of brown hair; he was beautiful and completely healthy.

A few weeks after that I was taking Alex to his Head Start class at Adam School around the block from our house and I ran into one of his teachers, who had just had her baby.  We began comparing notes:
"When was Ian born?"
"The 24th"
"Oh, really - my baby was born on the 24th too."
"Oh......really?"
"What time was Ian born?"
"12:26pm.  What time was your baby born?"
"Around that same time."
We both just stared at each other for a few seconds, both of us thinking, "Is she the screamer?"  Eventually, one of us said, "Did you hear that women screaming?"
We both laughed in relief that neither one of us was 'the screamer'.

Ian provided a lot of other funny stories in his short life, those are what I will try and remember as I celebrate my boy on his birthday this year.  I love you Ian and miss you more than you could imagine.

I saw a red robin this morning in our backyard, the first one I've seen since Ian died; I'm thankful for that small reminder that God is watching over us.

Age brings a longing

When I was younger I used to feel guilty because I wasnt' eager to get to heaven.  There was so much to do here; things to see, places to explore and events to experience.  I never understood how people could 'long for heaven'.....I do now.  This world isn't fun anymore, it's full of pain and sadness and loss; always loss.  I know there are moments of fun, jokes to laugh at.  I know that there will be things I won't want to miss like Amy getting married or our first grandchildren, but even those moments, I'm afraid, will be tinged with a drop of sadness because Ian won't be there to experience them with us.

Our counselor was telling us about a theory that in heaven everyone has a job - something they are gifted at that is used to bring glory to God.  I like to think of Ian painting, learning beside age old masters, showing him different drawing techniques or playing the piano - I miss him bringing notes on a page to life.  I walk by the piano every day, his music still there waiting for him and I miss his music so much!

I was thinking back to our trip to Monterrey.  Ian wanted to go, so we just went; one of the best things we've ever done.  What do I remember the most from that trip?  That we went with the moment, we did things on a whim, we didn't plan everything out, we laughed, we did what felt right for us at that moment and it created some wonderful memories.  It made Ian smile.  I look back on the trips we took with our kids, and it was time and money well spent.  You can't replace a month spent crossing the country, cooped up in a 30 foot RV or snorkeling together in Hawaii or exploring a cave in the desert.  Please, please don't get so caught up in the busyness of your life and forgot about the really important things - taking the time to listen to your children tell you about their day, that extra game of Go Fish, a cuddle on the couch, digging in the dirt looking for pirate treasure.  The housework can wait (the dust isn't going anywhere), the phone can go unanswered.  The moments you lose with your children can never be regained.  I saw a dad the other day while Eric & I  walking around downtown SLO and his little girl was energetically walking around him, talking away, telling him some important story that couldn't wait; all while he was entranced with his cell phone. I wanted to shake him. Didn't he know that the day is soon coming when she won't want to tell him her stories, when she'll see that his phone is more important to him than she is, when all those moments will be gone? I was far from the perfect parent.....I missed opportunities, I thought the 'adult' things I needed to get done were so much more important than playing 'choo-choo' or 'tea  party' and in the grand scheme of things, they weren't.  They were my way of making me feel more important.  I didn't realize the most important job I had was two feet tall and staring up at me, waiting for my attention.