Today my son turned 18. Just like on the day he was born, it was a chilly and rainy day. He was one month early, the first of my two children. I was 36 when he was born.
He inherited his father’s beautiful red hair. He is very intelligent, musical, sociable, even-tempered and a really good person. Although we had a rough start when he was born (being premature he had bigger challenges to face physically than babies who come at term), you’d never know by looking at him and talking to him what both he, myself, and my husband went through with no family or close friends nearby to lend a hand. I’m proud of that.
In 5 months the second of my two, my daughter, also born premature by a month, will be 16.
Life does indeed fly by. And being a mother, raising a terrific child, is miraculous.