It's a Son

Twenty-one years ago I gave birth to our oldest son, our second child. He was our first home birth. Labor was fast and intense, only 4 hours. Contractions started 3 minutes apart and 90 seconds long, they soon got closer and longer. Our midwife arrived and said I could start pushing anytime I wanted; a short time later I had the urge. I pushed for 45 minutes, but had good rest between pushing contractions. Soon his head was emerging, there was a cord, the midwife slipped it over his head and said I could push again, he shot up into the air, he was posterior, she said "catch him" Bill got him by a leg, her, by an arm. Bill laughed as he put him on my chest and said "It's a son." He cried, I cried, as I looked down at his beautiful face and stroked his cheek with my finger and said "Don't cry," he gazed up at me with his big brown eyes and stopped crying. So much has changed since then; he has grown into a handsome man. This morning as I woke him and wished him Happy Birthday and stroked his cheek it was no longer soft, but full of stubble, but those big brown eyes still looked up at me, as he said "Thanks, Mom." Thank you, my son.