Joshua turned eighteen yesterday.
When my babies are little, birthdays are so fun. Lots of planning and celebration and excitement. Not so much when they enter the teenage years. I want to slow down time, make them stay my babies forever, keep them close. Every birthday is a reminder that they are quickly approaching adulthood. They'll soon have lives of their own. Families of their own. I won't see them every day. I will miss them. So, as proud of Joshua as I am, this birthday is bittersweet. Bo not being here doesn't help. I told Joshua I'm delaying my meltdown until he's twenty-one. He's still my kid for three more years.
I get teary-eyed when I remember March 5th, 1991. My first baby. A twelve hour labor. Bo driving like a mad man to get me to the hospital. My parents driving through the night to arrive in time to meet their grandson. Pushing for an hour until a 9 pound 10 ounce bundle of love popped out as the sun was rising over Atlanta. Picking him up from his hospital bassinet when he was crying, to have him immediately calm down and relax in my arms. Oh such sweet memories.
I am so proud of you Joshua. I love you so so much. Happy 18th.
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