surprises

when i got to the airport, my reservation had been mistakenly cancelled...by the airline. so, i didn't make my flight due to the mix up...i had to wait 3 hours for the next one. i was rerouted due to this, far out of the way. then, my flight was over half an hour late taking off...the exact amount of time i had to catch my connecting flight. a woman was walking crazy, she smacked me in my face and then looked at me, mumbled something incoherent and passed out face first in the aisle.

i had to take a bus to catch my connecting flight. it barely happened. then, super small plane - 26 people. the stewardess was fucked up and serving minors and laughing about it. i was in the last seat, right next to the bathroom. i hadn't eaten anything besides luna bars, i didn't plan for this kind of day. tired and hungry. he came to get me, a change in plans b/c of the change in timing. i wasn't expecting it, because it was so late with the time difference, but the other he was awake when i arrived.

it's been almost 2 years since i've seen him. i wasn't expecting to see him tonight. tired. disoriented. hungry. just not prepared. on the drive here, his dad started crying telling me about him, about how amazing he is and about how sometimes, when he is talking to him, he closes his eyes and it's me that he hears. how he says words exactly like i say them, how he talks like me, has the same personality. how he's a mini-me.

when i came in the door he shouted 'is she here?' and came barreling down the stairs and into my arms.

my son. my nearly 8 year old son. a human, a person all his own. no longer a toddler or small jealous boy who dislikes me taking his parents time and attention, but an 8 year old man child in my own image excited about seeing me. he's an athlete and won his ball game tonight that i was supposed to see - told me the details of certain plays and asked me to see his room.

i tried to act as if it were no big deal, something i was accustomed to, this feeling in my chest.

he is beautiful. amzing. perfect. he's a mirror image of me. the face, the eyes, the neck, the shoulders. small hands and feet that look like mine, skin the color of my skin, shoulders that slope like my own. you would think that i made him alone, that i cloned myself in male form and was solely responsible for his genetic make up. you would think that i had raised him, the way he makes the same faces that i do, puts the same emphasis at the same place in his sentences.

my son. they have always called him that, calling me and saying 'your son...'. but i have never allowed myself to think of him as such. it was too hard, always so much easier to not think of him possessively. because he's not *mine*, not really. i don't see him every day, see the subtle changes, laugh at the moments, cry at his pains, comfort him when he needs it, hug him every night.

sometimes, it is easier not to think of him at all. when i think about being 30 and post-hysterectomy. when i think that he is the only one that i will grow within me and present to this world, and how he is not *mine*. but, because i did something in my life perfectly, better than anyone could possibly imagine, i realized someting tonight. he is my son.

because i chose the perfect people to be his parents, because i chose for him what i had always wanted and never been even close to having at all - loving, good hearted people as parents, mom and dad, because i found him that and formed a relationship with them and gave them their dream, he can still be my son.

they are more incredible than i could ever know. i cannot have children any longer. i am at a tough place in my life. and they have made it possible for me to come here and hug my son. they have given me the opportunity to see my son's first communion. to watch him play baseball. to take him to the beach and watch him eat ice cream and hear him sing songs and watch him play video games. i gave to them their impossible, and now they have given it back to me when it became my impossible as well.

they are willing to share with me the gift that i gave them. he's not their son. and he's not my son.

he's our son.

it is the most amazing thing. and now i'm typing this before i force myself to sleep, because he has promised to jump on my bed in the morning. tomorrow, against the odds and despite the impossiblity, i will be awakened by my son.