Happy Birthday, Jon!

This is my son, Jonathan. It is his birthday today, his fourteenth. It is a day of much emotion for me, as are all of my sons' birthdays. I love to celebrate my kids' birthdays, love to spoil them. I hope that they all really look forward to their birthdays, because they know it's going to be great. I let them be rotten on their birthdays, no chores, and they get to hog the computer. Everyone is supposed to be nice to them, although as they get older, it gets harder to make their brothers cooperate. To me, everyone owns one day a year, the day you were born. Other holidays are wonderful, and we look forward to them, but you have to share them. Your birthday is your own. So today, we will go to Jon's favorite restaurant - Whataburger. Yeah, he's fourteen. He'll have two of those huge hamburgers, and he'll eat both of them, in addition to his fries and drink. God love him, it doesn't look like they hurt him, does it. He really only pigs out at Whataburger. He's not an overeater, so I don't worry about it. I got him a microphone for the computer as a birthday gift. His father and his grandparents gave him money, which, you know, he's fourteen, he really appreciates. We'll have cake and ice cream later.

You know, is it the same for all mothers? In my mind, quietly, I kind of view this as a holiday for myself as well. I think of what happened to me on June 20, 1996. I think of all the events, beginning to end. It was such a blessed day. The day my baby came into the world. It was a day of miracles. Jon, when he arrived, was not a healthy baby. He wasn't all bunched up and screaming as they handed him off in the delivery room. He was limp, and blue. He didn't cry, didn't even breathe. My OB handed to a neo-nate team waiting right there, because they knew already that there was trouble. The team worked and worked, while I fell to pieces, asking how my baby was. I remember at one point screaming "Somebody tell me my baby is going to be okay!" Thankfully, the neonatologist immediately did. He didn't interrupt his work, but he said "Your baby's going to be okay." They worked a little more, then he brought him to me and told me to give him a quick kiss before they whisked him away. That was just so awful. But we got on the phones, and called everybody we knew, and got them all started praying. A little later, the neonatologist came to tell me what was going on. He said my boy would be fine, but it would take a while. He said I could come visit him in NICU in the morning, but he wouldn't be leaving the unit. He said I would have to pump, that Jon was not strong enough to nurse. He said Jon would be in the unit for a few days. But he said that Jon would be okay, and that was what mattered. So my friends and I all prayed for a miracle. An hour or two later, here came a nurse, and said "Get up, Mom, your baby's hungry." I said "What? The doctor said he would be too weak to nurse." They said "It's the weirdest thing, he just all of a sudden perked up." Huh, weird, you say? I say God, but you say what you want. I nursed my baby. The next morning, I got up and went to the nursery to see my baby. When I got there, they said "We were just about to bring him to you." "Wait," I said, "the doctor said he would not leave the unit yet." "Weird thing," begins the nurse......... yeah, weird, hmmmm, maybe a God thing? But they didn't know. I'm sure I told them it was God, I'm really not the type not to. The long and short of it, God was miraculous, He showed all of us who were praying that night that Jon was born, just how quickly He can answer prayer, just how mighty He is. I bless God for Jon, as I bless God for all my children. I bless God for so much in my life, but I just am so happy that He gave me my boys.

Thank you, God, and Happy Birthday, Jon.