the eugene bean

Eight years ago today I was giving birth to my oldest son, Jacob. Happy birthday to my sweet, thoughtful, handsome, caring boy!

For some reason this year the memories are truly alive. I’m able to vividly remember the fear, the pain, the joy, the pride, the exhaustion, the love.

All day yesterday and already this morning I’m battling a feeling of melancholy. Not because of the whole aging thing. Jacob’s growing up which means I’m growing older. OK, got that… moving on!

I think my reflective mood is due to the fact that we’re not surrounded by family and friends on this special day. Normally, I’d be tearing through the house doing last minute clean up and party prep. I’d be waiting for Grammy and Poppy to show up with my freshly bathed and nicely dressed little guys, and I’d be so thankful to my in-laws for taking the boys for a couple hours so I could finish getting ready for the party.

Around 2 today we’ll be headed for the bowling alley. Jacob invited a few friends and Connie and Dan will be there, but it won’t be the same. Normally at 2:00 on his birthday, Jacob would be running through the house with a mixture of 10-15 cousins and friends ranging in age from 3-12.

Now, I don’t want you to think the house is full of gloom and doom. J is thrilled that it’s his birthday! He’s looking at the pile of gifts that have arrived in the mail and he’s giddy with excitement about being able to start opening them at 9:29, the time of his entrance into this grand world. He’s psyched about bowling, and couldn’t care less if 2 or 15 people show up.

J is 8. He lives in the now. He doesn’t look back and wish things were the way they were. He doesn’t care as long as he gets to celebrate his birthday. He’s happy to have the attention focused on him, he’s happy to have chocolate cake with his name on it, he’s happy to open his presents, he’s happy to be going bowling- even if just his mom, dad, brother and a couple friends show up.

I, on the other hand, am very conscious of my loneliness. I am remembering the family that drove 65 miles to Baton Rouge on March 31st (and again on April 1st, Jacob REALLY took his time!), to be with me and to support me and to encourage me. I’m remembering the voice of my mom through the labor and delivery room door, impatient after 22 hours of labor, saying, “Is he here yet? Is that him crying? Open the door!”

I vividly remember the joy on my father’s face, and the look of wonder from my 16 year old brother. I remember my father-in-law’s tenderness, and the giddy excitement of Ty’s mom.

Sometimes I worry about sharing my sadness and loneliness with the world at large. I worry that people will point a finger and shout, “You Chose This Life. You Made the Decision to Leave Your Family. You Should Suffer, You Ass.” And they would be right. But, I’ll continue to share the good and the bad of living 2500 miles away from everyone we love, because I need this release.

So anyway, I want to express my gratitude to everyone back home that loves me and my family. Without your support, J would have had a very different 8 years, and Ty and I would be sad, bitter, angry, unhappy people. You have loved me, carried me, soothed my worries and fears, and surrounded me with love every step of both my life and my children’s lives.

I truly miss you today.