Begin at the Beginning

One of my favorite bloggers posted today  on Instagram that she is celebrating her 10th year of writing online – which happens to coincide with my oldest child’s 10th birthday. This immediately filled my mind with so many what-ifs… What if I’d started blogging consistently when I only had the one kid to deal with? What if I’d actually stuck with the blog that I started in 2008 and posted on sporadically for a couple of years? What if I was actually capable of sticking with things that I started when they become difficult?

But then I stopped. And changed the voice in my head to sound more like the one that I would use if I was talking to a friend. Somehow its tone is more understanding. Patient. Gracious.

Jack’s birth, ten years ago today, was both the pinnacle and the depths of every emotion I’d ever felt before. Our first beautiful boy – I remember his eyes gazing into mine so intently, as though he knew exactly who I was from the first moment in my arms. But Jack was born with multiple congenital heart defects. So that first moment was followed by days in the NICU, open-heart surgery, and way too many of my worst fears staring me in the face.

Jack Baby

It wouldn’t have been the ideal time to start a blog.

But today could be different. I can (sort of) let myself imagine that I could still be doing this when Jack is twenty. Though that I can’t actually imagine – Jack away at college. Shaving. With a girlfriend. Taking calculus and playing intramurals. Though I can almost feel it happening, some days… He is becoming his own little person, separate from me and his daddy. With his own thoughts and ideas and purposes and dreams and goals. I think that we get used to them depending on us, looking to us for how to think and what to want, where to go and what to do. But I know that by fourth grade there was a whole universe within me that only intersected with my parents at the margins. My prayer is that we may tend the margins of Jack’s growing universe with care and grace as he learns and loves and (one day) leaves.

At the very least, it should give me something to write about.

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