Happy Birthday, Charlie!

Oh, my Charlie boy.

I remember the night I took the pregnancy test with you.  I'll be honest.  I sobbed.  The girls were so young, Alisa was going through baby heartache, I was exhausted and now sick, and I just couldn't see the light at the end of the tunnel.  It took me weeks and months of feeling horrible about my pregnancy, guilty, and even resentful, until your wise Daddy reminded me that I was letting Satan steal my joy.  And oh, the joy.  You are my absolute ray of sunshine.

Four weeks before you were born, I broke my rib.  It was a terribly hard last month.  Daddy had to do everything for me; wash my hair, get me situated in a recliner chair every night, and the list goes on.  The girls traveled between friends, aunts, and grandmas.  I felt like the worst mom ever.  Yet, I felt like the most fortunate mom ever.  Our support system was outstanding, and the time I had to do nothing left it just me and you, my boy.  For three weeks I memorized your every move, every bump sticking out, and your every pattern.  The sadness and fear from the beginning had now turned to dancing.  I couldn't wait to see you.

Your birth was so relaxing and calm.  You came with ease.  Your life brought immediate redemption. You are a gift.

When Alisa and the boys came to visit, they were so excited and happy for us.  Still, I felt guilt and sadness for my sister.  I didn't want my son to be a constant reminder of what she didn't have.  But, as God always does, he redeemed this story for His good.  In her tummy that very day, he was knitting together Canaan Dean, who would be born nine months (minus one day) later.  Only God can orchestrate miracles like that.  Charlton, your life gave me a new perspective of hope, contentment, and waiting well.  You had no idea, and still don't.  You just live a full life, showing us to do the same.

Today, you turn four.  You are still cute as a button with your gorgeous eye lashes and one adorable dimple.  You love the color orange, to eat pizza, and to work, work, work.  You talk constantly and laugh really loud.  You wear work boots everyday, and park them right beside Daddy's in the garage.  You know what pins hook up certain things to the back of you bike.  You rode your bike without training wheels at age three because you get after it.  You are shy in certain situations and with certain people, yet gregarious around the people you know well.  You are teaching me about all things boy, and though I was always worried about how I would mother a little man,  I am eternally grateful for the opportunity I get to raise you.

First birthday.

Second birthday.

Third birthday.

Fourth birthday.  You got an orange Carhart coat this morning.

My birthday boy.

You tell me every night, "You are my best Mom," and wait for me to respond, "And you, my best boy."  Every.single.night.  Your daddy is my number one man, but you Charlie, are my very best boy. I know I am always a pile of mush on your birthdays, but truly, I love you more than you'll ever understand.

Enjoy YOUR day, Charlie boy!