You were “due” to be born in November. The leaves had fallen from the trees, and I was happy to think I wouldn’t have to invest in a new winter coat to cover my gigantic tummy. I’d have you in time for the Christmas season, and conveniently, your Nana and Papa would be in town.

My doctor was so careful with my emotions, as she was also the one who delivered your lost sibling; the one between you and your amazing big sister. The OB knew I was fragile, and when you went just a few days over that due date, she suggested an induction. I guess I didn’t really care, I just wanted you to be ok, you know?

But being the ever-unpredictable child you are, 9 hours before your scheduled induction, you decided enough was enough.

Mom, wake up.”


You need to go crawl into bed with Story. Ryan and I are off to the hospital, I think I’m having the baby now.”

In the car on our way to the hospital, I laboured. Walking, I laboured. In the bed, I laboured. In the tub I laboured. On that stupid bouncy ball I laboured. Until I didn’t want to breathe through the pain, and begged someone to find the anaesthesiologist, I laboured. Apparently my screaming had startled a woman having her first baby down the hall, which made me giggle a little. Sweet relief came from the magical epidural. I told the anaesthesiologist I loved him very, very much. He said he gets that a lot.

Your Daddy and I watched, “Baby Mama”, waiting for you to make your way into the world.

You’re ready! Should we have this baby now, or what?“, the doc asked.

We’re almost to the end of the movie, can we wait?“, I replied.

She said she’d pop back in later.

Just before lunch, the movie ended and in an uneventful, peaceful fashion, you entered the world. All 8 pounds, 9 ounces of you, and you were placed in my arms. They weighed you, you screamed, your Daddy smiled.

I was afraid to hold you because I thought if I fell in love with you, you may leave me like the one we’d lost before. I was so afraid while I was pregnant with you, I had lost myself. I hadn’t allowed myself to build dreams about you, it just always felt like somehow you weren’t real. In that moment, when I stroked your cheek and kissed your forehead, you healed my heart.

Soon, your Nana and Papa arrived, with your sister pushing through them to insist on meeting you.

Let me hold him, Mommy. Let me hold my baby. Masey, I love you. Do you remember me? I’m your big sister, I’m Story. I’m the one who has been singing to you. You’re my baby.

You’re hilarious, my little guy. You rush headlong into life, you’re sweet and kind. You love your big sister more than anything in the world. Your big brown eyes make your parents forgive every tantrum.

I don’t know what powers are at work in this universe to make things happen the way they do. I don’t know how it is that a heart as broken as mine could knit itself together with love, but I know that our world changed when you became a part of it. I’m thankful for you each and every day.

(Even on the ones where you’ve pushed every button, and left me in tears of frustration.)

Happy fourth birthday, my amazing little Mason. We love you so, so much.


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16 thoughts on “Four.

    1. I’m sure kindergarten is totally awesome today! :p (We’re taking him out for his fave dinner tonight, and stuffing him full of ice cream cake after… it’s gonna rock.) Thanks, Sharon!

  1. Children really do heal many of our hurts. What a lovely post xo
    p.s. you made me cry but happy tears

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