#2 son is actually #3 son, which is why he will always have a special place in my heart.
After losing our #2 son, Grant, at 2.5 months of age, I found myself pregnant with Anders. Early pregnancy was a bit of a challenge due to low hormone levels, but he and I persevered through 9 months. When the time came, even though his dad and the nurses (and the midwife) were in the room, it really was just the two of us. Anders and Me.
There were no drugs, there was no fear, there was just a sheer determination to bring forth this miracle baby into the world. Alex would always be our first born, therefore a miracle in his own right; but Anders was the recovery baby. The baby that would try to make the void of Grant less of a black hole.
Looking back, there was no expectation that he had to do anything special. He just needed to live and thrive. That is what he most certainly did. The older he got and the taller he grew he, through his own being, began to do many special things. His nature to love and be loved without embarrassment, his talents that continue to surprise us all – music, singing, acting, swimming. When he puts his mind to it, its his to own.
Oh, there were moments I could have (and often still could) sell him for cheap. His terrible twos went into his fours, we couldn’t take him out. His lips would move without words coming out and he often acted like a bunny rabbit into his early teens. I was required to tend to all of his ailments, whether above the belt or not. He failed 8th grade English in defiance of his brother joining the Navy. He’s a bit scattered, forgetful and he sucks at a calendar. He’s a little too big for his britches, but has an uncanny selection of wikipedia/tumbler memorized in his head that will keep you entertained for hours. You can usually tell where he has been because he leaves a trail behind him.
He departs on a trip of a lifetime tomorrow. A month in Japan with friends. He has been told to call his dad if bail money is needed. He will then come home for two weeks and then will depart to Santa Cruz to continue his education. Anders still has much to learn. He now knows what soap to put into the dishwasher (and what soap NOT to put into the dishwasher). He can endorse a check, keep a job, have a rockin’ girlfriend that we have grown to love (wasn’t hard). He could make us laugh at the most inappropriate times. He would do anything for his brothers, he would do anything for me. We can talk about anything.
Whatever may be imperfect about this crazy kid is lost upon the smile he bestows on everyone he meets. He is infectious and I love every imperfect and perfect thing about him.
Happy Birthday, my son, Anders. Carpe Diem!