A decade of Hat Tricks

Today is my baby's 10th birthday.

Nine years ago, crammed into a stainless steel University of South Alabama hospital crib with my arms wrapped around him, I was crying out to God and willing my baby to live. Viral croup, a common and typically mild childhood illness, had trashed his lungs and acute respiratory distress syndrome had set in.

We had an edgy couple of months, but he grew big and strong and healthy and beautiful. Asthma pesters him, especially when enemy birches and oaks try to steal his health by blooming in the spring. He copes.

It's a daunting task, trying to keep babies alive. Squonk tried to make his appearance starting at about 29 weeks gestation, but he stayed put until 38 weeks and went home with me from the hospital. Little more than a year later, we were fighting for him again, with everything we had.

But that's what parents do. We're not just in it for the first steps and cute curls and baby babbling. We're in it for the 104-degree fevers, the projectile vomiting, the whining, the tantrums, the exploding diapers. Times three, in our (very blessed) case.

Three children ages 4 and under seemed like an impossible charge, but harder days are at hand. Acne. Middle school meltdowns. Questions about God and the meaning of life. Achievements all their own. The butterfly-like wings that are beginning to unfold and beat hard, to pump blood and build strength so they can one day carry my babies away to their own separate lives.

I'm editing a memoir of sorts for a friend, a collection of newspaper columns that chronicle his children's journey through this exact season. I weep as I work, but they are joyful tears. I have loved every age of parenthood, yet don't wish any back. Why would I want to trade the privilege of knowing my children as individual beings for a time when they were simply small enough to sit in my lap?

I knew I wasn't alone in that Alabama crib, and I know I'm not alone now. Of all the lessons I have learned about gratitude in my years as a mother, I am most grateful for the presence of God, then and now. I cannot be afraid for my children because I am not in control. And so I can wish my beautiful boy a happy 10th birthday -- and many more.