happy birthday

My son turned nineteen today. Proud of him. An incredible young man. Smart, sarcastic, and sweet. A terrific blend of teen and adult. He is my firstborn. I remember holding him in my arms in that sterile hospital room all by ourselves. Looking into his little face and gently talking to him. He looked at me like I was his world. Little did he know, he was in fact my world. My life revolved around every coo, every movement of his sweet baby face. I had never felt so absorbed into someone else's being. A little spirit, new to life, smelling like spun sugar and glowing from within. Babies are incredible. Watching them grow into young adults is magical. I could not ask for more than what he is. Stunningly brilliant, tenderly compassionate, genuinely funny. Lucky me.

ouch

I've been thinking a lot about chronic pain. It's been a real trip dealing with it the past 2+ years. I rally between being a whiner and a stoic. I prefer shutting up about it, but whether I like it or not, it's insidious. I'd like to say it's taught me patience, but in reality, it has increased my impatience with myself. I make my body do what it complains about, but I pay. I pay with pain. I pay with frustration. Frustration that I can't do more. I think the best lesson that came out of my accident was increased understanding. You can see when someone's in pain. Not always from a limp or a cane. It's in their eyes. Pain comes in all sorts of threads...physical and emotional. It's exhausting and on some days, overwhelming. In the best of times, chronic pain is tolerable because it's routine. I'm used to it, for better or worse. It's not going anywhere. It's like the stages of grief, you come to accept it. You are grieving for the old you. I don't think that's necessarily a good thing, but we all cope in our own ways, and for me that makes life more normal.