I don’t often post my parenting thoughts here, but on the eve of my son’s third birthday, I was looking at Kahlil Gibran’s book The Prophet, and reading the passage on children.
“And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, Speak to us of Children.
And he said:Your children are not your children.
They are the sons and daughters of life’s longing for itself.
They come through you but not from you.
And though they are with you yet they belong not to you.You may give them your love but not your thoughts,
For they have their own thoughts.
You may house their bodies but not their souls,
For their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, even in your dreams.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as living arrows are sent forth.The Archer sees the mark upon the path of the infinite, and He bends you with His might that His arrows may go swift and far.
Let your bending in the Archer’s hand be for gladness;
For even as He loves the arrow that flies, so he loves also the bow that is stable.”The Prophet – Kahlil Gibran P 25-26
Three years ago today at this time, I was in a hospital room after 5 days of stop and go labour. I remember dreaming at night that I was floating in the open ocean hanging on to a log. I guess as I would have contractions in my sleep I would envision a large wave and I would hold on to that log for dear life. Finally, I was in active labour and I was going to have a baby. I was telling my son the story of his birth tonight. About where I was at this time three years ago. I told him about the waiting for 12 hours after taking an epidural and waiting for the dilation to occur so I could push, only to find out the following morning that I wasn’t going to dilate more than 8 cms and that he was upside down and I’d have to have a caesarian.
I remember being prepped for surgery, and the doctors talking about their golf games and what they did on the weekend (he was born on a Monday morning). I remember the doctor telling me it would feel like someone was standing on me. The next thing I knew, I heard, “Congratulations, Amanda. You have a little boy.” I remember holding my breath and waiting for him to cry. It felt like such a long time, I thought my heart had stopped. When I heard the wail coming from my newborn son, it unleashed a well of emotions. Gratitude, happiness, fear, overwhelm and unbounded joy. The nurse carried him over to me while I was being stitched up.
My first words to my husband were, “holy shit. We have a kid!”.
I had been calling Ian by name since he was in the womb. I remember yelling to the nurse who asked me if I had chosen a name that his name is IAN! My husband wanted to name him Lou for Roberto Luongo (we are all Canucks – LOL), but that was happening over my dead body. I wanted him to have a good Scottish name. Ian it is.
Today I have an exuberant, loving and funny 2 year old kid. He’s tenacious and stubborn too. But he’s mine for now. Until he spreads his wings and takes off on his own journey. I’m going to enjoy him while I have him in my arms.
Though he is with me, he does not belong to me. I know that. I will not strive to make him like me. I’m looking forward to seeing who he will become on his own and what the future holds for him. A popular question I get as a medium is whether I look into the lives of my family members.
I generally don’t. I don’t look into Ian’s future, or my husband’s. There are some things in life that are better left as mysteries.
July 22nd at 11:39 am, I will have a three year old. Wow.
Metaphysical Musings 