monday's child is fair of face, tuesday's child is full of grace, wednesday's child is full of woe, thursday's child has far to go. friday's child is loving and giving, saturday's child works hard for a living. but the child that's born on the Sabbath day is blithe and winsome, and bonny and gay.
my son charged into the world a few minutes before 8 on a sunday evening. i was exactly two weeks past my due date, and more than happy to get the pregnancy over. he, having made up his mind to finally show up, took a mere four hours to barrel his way into the world, a tiny torpedo that got stuck right at the eyes.
i remember screaming "get it out, get it out," and the midwives yelling back, "you have to push," and me screaming louder, "i can't, it fucking hurts too much."
jamie arrived screaming, too.
our relationship has been periodically punctuated with a few screams since.
but jamie, if he is one of my more willful children, is also at many times one of my sweetest. he had a twinkle in his eye and a lilt in his laugh that was hard to resist. even our pediatrician, who was not the sort of man given to any kind of hyperbole once remarked, "he is a most attractive child, isn't he?"
and jamie was. he was lucky, really... being as cute as he was helped keep him alive.
one morning, when jamie was not quite three, shortly after we had moved jamie into his big boy bed and meg, then three or four months, into what had been jamie's old crib, i went into the bedroom they were sharing to discover jamie's bed empty.
i glanced into the crib - meg was sound asleep.
i spun on my heel, dashed into my oldest daughter's room to see if jamie had climbed in with her. no jamie. heart pounding, i checked the kitchen, the basement, the front yard, the backyard. no jamie. i was just about to call my husband at work, when i heard meg stirring.
i dashed upstairs, trying to imagine where in the world he could've gone, how he could've gotten out - both doors were locked - when i got to the crib. there, cuddled up together, were meg and jamie. she was cooing in his arms, he was smiling down at her beatifically, his little blond cherub's face beaming. "she know me special, mommy," he said, "she know me special."
indeed, we all do. happy birthday, jamie-jim, from the mommy whose hair you turned white.
and furthermore, the war will end. blessed be.