He’s Mine

Having a son was never in my playbook; I was destined to be a mom of daughters, and the universe complied at first, giving me Sydney, in all her defiant glory.

Then, when they told me I was having a son, for a split second I was disappointed. All my dreams of Sydney enjoying that sister bond, that I share with my own, vanished. A boy. He was a boy. What do I do with a boy?

Then, he arrived. And I more than loved him. He is perfect, even through all of the medical mumbo jumbo he has had to deal with; he’s flawless.

And, it’s not that there’s “something about little boys.” No. That’s not it. There’s something about MY little boy. His deep brown eyes that search mine, even at 4-weeks-old; those are soulful eyes.

His sweet, small little hand, and his unblinking eye will deter some people from seeing those gorgeous peepers. They will prompt stares. They will bring whispers. He will be forced to confront insecure people who have nothing better to do but make fun of others, and his father and I will have to teach him that those people are sad. They are the ones to feel sorry for, and not allow him to feel sorry for himself.

We have to teach him that things he will see as negatives about his body will actually ensure that he is only surrounded by people who truly love and value him for who he is.

I imagine he will be reserved, but strong. Confident, but contained. The kind of man you can trust with something so important, like your heart– just like his daddy. I believe he will be friendly, loyal, and kind to everyone, one of those people you can’t help but be drawn towards.

Only the most special people will gain access to his life, and his world. People will have to earn the title “friend,” and will remain so for a lifetime.

When he brings home the love of his life, we will know that it’s real.

I would be lying if I said I wish he didn’t have to face these hurdles. I hate that he will have to learn how mean people can be, and how so few people are truly accepting.

But, it wouldn’t be Jackson. His little hand is a part of him, and his eye, if it remains that way, is as well. That is the son I was given, and THAT is the son I want.

No trades or take-backs; this little boy is mine, and I wouldn’t have him any other way.