Thirty years ago today was Mother's Day. I went to the Mall. I walked the entire length of the Mall. And back again. Then I went home.
Sitting at the dinner table, I felt a little twinge. I didn't say anything. Until much later. And then it was time to go to the hospital and very early the next morning, Brad was born. All 9 pounds 11 ounces of him.
We didn't know his name until we saw him. There were a couple choices, but when we saw him we knew it was Brad.
By the way, did I mention he was crying before he was even completely born?
Grandpa Lunger was the first to come and see him in the hospital, aside from his dad and I that is. He snuck in at the beginning of his work day to meet his grandson. I won't ever forget how totally in love he was with his grandchildren.
His big sister came to see him in the hospital too. She couldn't wait to have him at home. That stopped somewhere around the first time he took a toy from her.
And now, that baby boy is on the verge of becoming a daddy himself. In just a few days, he will understand how such a small little creature can totally steal your heart. And how looking at that little one, the idea that he (or, in Brad's case, she) is totally dependent on you.
In my case, that was a very happy Mother's day. And I'm sure that this will be a very happy Father's day for Brad.
Happy Birthday Braddy. I love you.
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