Three. Faith, Hope, Charity. The first odd prime number. Past, Present, Future. The Christian Holy Trinity. The number of Qi.
Campbell, Abby, Sophie. The children of my body, heart and soul. My perfect triad of progeny.
It all began seventeen years ago today: October 1st, 1993, on the shores of Lake Champlain, in the city of my own birth. The place where I became the first of my mother's ten children became the place where my son became the first of my three.
Life is circular, in some ways. The past becomes the present, just as the future all too quickly becomes the past.
Which is what has happened with my Libra son. He is seventeen today. What I could only imagine when I held him in my arms as a newborn, as I sat in my medical school class learning pathology, is now reality. He is in his final year of high school, applying for college. Each of his soccer games this fall as player #7 edges us closer to the end of his high school soccer career.
And closer to the next phase of his life.
My role as his parent has already begun to shift, and I know it will continue to evolve. No longer am I the young mother who sings "Baby Mine" from Disney's Dumbo to her overtired toddler son, as he fights sleep with his head on her shoulder. I am becoming the slightly older mother who will soon silently sing "Baby Mine" while she nestles her head into his strong, capable shoulder, as she bids him farewell in his college dorm.
This is as it should be. Mothers anchor the heart of the trinity. We create, nurture and set free.
I am achingly grateful to have had the opportunity to mother the man my child has become. Like his father before him, I love him madly. My son is brilliant. He is quick and forceful. He is opinionated. He is loving. He is handsome. He is kind. He is the beginning of my perfect triad of progeny. And he is seventeen today.
Happy birthday, baby mine.