Thomas’ mother.

And the boy is home!  Over the years I’ve had many emotions while being Thomas’ mother.  When Thomas was born my dad told me, “You no longer have a name, from now on you’ll be ‘Thomas’ Mom”.  I laughed then, 17 years ago but it really is true.  I know I’m also “Alyssa, Daniella and Samantha’s Mom”, but being Thomas’ Mom broke me in, inducted me into motherhood, shattered (in a good/realistic way) whatever false/perfect beliefs I had about motherhood. Introduced me to the person I would become;  a tenacious mother who would search over and over for help for her son.  I look at this young man who is bigger and taller than me.  This young man who will bend down when he hugs me so that his head will rest on my shoulder.   He’s so handsome and so big.  I wish I knew when all this growing up happened.

He is left handed, like me but has green eyes like his Dad.  I’ve never been brought to tears as much as I have for this child of mine.  Tears of joy and happiness as well as tears from pain and fear.  I’m able to sit and write this because Thomas is engaged in coloring Christmas pages.  Gingerbread houses to be exact.  This is when I’m able to sit and stare at him and swell with pride that he is mine.  Thomas is my only child that I’ve had to express to other people that he is indeed MINE.  The girls have always been with me, lived with me there was never any moments of insecurities.  Thomas is once again in residential school.  This time around I haven’t felt the need to remind the staff that he has a mother…that he is mine.  The first time in residential there were many times I wanted to shout from the rooftops, “He has a mother, he is still MINE”.  Will I still do this say in 10 years when Thomas will be 27 years old?  I want to say, “no” but I’m sure I will.    Will I do that to the girls in 10 years?  Most likely no. 

I’m so glad he’s here, home for Christmas.

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