My First Mother's Day

First, some background on me. I'm a mom. I have two sons (age 20 and 19). They have left my husband and me empty-nesters. I'm rather enjoying the peace and quiet (perhaps reason 1 that I'm not the mother of the year!).

I gave birth to my first son over 20 years ago. It was a difficult birth. He was ten days over due and weighed over nine pounds. Without going into all the gory details, let me say that my pregnancy ended with my boy being surgically removed from my body. I was sent home from the hospital (too soon!) and told not to lift anything over ten pounds. Ya, that included my son. That was in August.

By my first Mother's Day I was recovered and pregnant with my second boy. After a busy Sunday taking care of my mother-in-law and my mother with brunches, gifts, and a day at church (where I received a very sad carnation), my husband and I settled into our couch to watch television. Every show we watched that evening included a plot line where the husband did something nice for his wife for Mother's Day. I just sat and watched silently with my 20-some-odd pound son sleeping in my lap.

At some point, my husband turned to me and asked, "Was I supposed to do something for you for Mother's Day?"

To which I replied, "Ya, I think so."

"But you are not my mother." Which is such a lame reply considering all the work I had done that day for his mother!

"Did you think the boy was going to take care of it?" I said pointing to the infant.

The next day my husband came home with a card for me. On the front was a sweet little drawing of a bear sitting on a crescent moon. The line read something about being his dream girl for eternity, or something close to that--I cannot remember exactly. On the inside--and I do remember this exactly--the card read, "Happy Birthday!"