My son is sixteen

My son turned sixteen today. He's a junior in high school. Since I'm not working, I had the fabulous opportunity to take a birthday cake to his school for his lunch with his friends. I took the cake, plates and forks, and a gallon of milk with cups to wash it down. His friends sang "happy birthday" to him and devoured the cake. It seemed to be appreciated by all.

My husband and I are unabashedly proud of him. He is a year younger than his classmates, but he has a 3.9 average in advanced classes. He recently took the ACT and scored a composite of 30 (which is really, very good). He's just a fine young man and I'm proud to be his mother.

It almost didn't happen. When I was married before, I thought for years that I was infertile. But the Good Lord was keeping me from having a child by the man I was married to. Not until I met my current husband (the love of my life) did God see fit to allow me to become pregnant. Actually, once Johnny and I got married, I was pregnant within four months. It destroyed my goal of becoming an Air Force Officer, but - hey - I was going to be a MOTHER! And then, the dear Air Force doctors didn't believe me when I told them I had an unusually large head and a small pelvis, and I was worried about being able to deliver if my baby had a large head. So, without any gory details, let's just say my concern was justified. Thank God, my husband was with me throughout my labor, and he told the doctors that I'd been allowed to suffer long enough, my baby was in distress and it was time to intervene. They checked the records, found he was right (duh) and told me I needed a C-section. Well, I had told the earlier shift five hours earlier that I needed a C-section. But I was just the dumb woman in labor, I didn't know anything. The C-section went smoothly, and saved my baby's life and mine.

So, sixteen years later, I still adore my husband, and we have a strapping son who is 6 feet 4 inches tall, is loved and respected at his school, and makes his teachers and family proud.