Fiona, Sam and baby FinnWhen I gave birth 17 years ago today, I desperately wanted a girl. My boyfriend at the time already had a son and his ex-wife didn’t feel as ex as I wanted her too. To give you a good sense of my "invisible" status, when Sam's dad called to tell his mother that she was going to be a Grandmother again, she asked if his ex-wife was pregnant and we had been living together for over 2 years at that point. Since I wasn’t secure in my position in the family as the girlfriend/”step mom”/mom to be, I was fixated on having a daughter to make things feel different. Mature, I know, but that’s how I felt when I was 26. At that point, absolutely everything in my life seemed out of control. I was in L.A. and on top of a very shaky relationship, the universe threw me a few extra curve balls (earthquakes, mudslides, riots, gangs, financial hardship) to keep things interesting. During my pregnancy, an ultrasound technician told me I was having a girl. YAY! The next 6 months were spent dreaming about my daughter and picking out very girly bits and pieces for her. The baby shower gifts were wall to wall pink and purple. I had an apple green ruffly bikini tucked in the newly purchased baby dresser. My daughter was on her way.
 
On November 3rd, 1992 while the election of Bill Clinton was being televised on every television in the hospital, I underwent a C-Section and delivered a healthy boy. My initial reaction was not a proud moment, but it is funny. I was under the influence of some very strong drugs. I had told my Anesthesiologist a number of times that I didn’t want to feel anything, so he gladly obliged by administering a drug or combination of drugs that produced what I can only describe as an out of body experience. When the baby was wrapped and put by my face, I couldn’t even focus to see him. “It's a Boy!” she exclaimed. I burst into tears and whimpered, "“I guess I can forget the Easy Bake Oven."” The nurses and doctors laughed and I struggled with disappointment. It took a while for it to sink in and when it did I was unable to feel happy about it. After my surgery, I was wheeled down the hall toward recovery and passed the nursery window. Keep in mind, I was still heavily under the influence so when I saw my baby bundled and sleeping behind the glass, I still wasn’t sold on him. Apparently while I was in recovery with 5 other women, I thought I was alone in the room. My primary concern was to find out from the nurse what “those fantastic recovery underpants” were made of and could I have a box to take with me. “So roomy and soft.” Paper, go figure.
 
A couple of hours later when I was merging back with myself and in a private room, a nurse entered with that baby boy and laid him in my arms. As long as I live, I will never forget that feeling and I hope it's my last memory as I leave this earth. I can only describe it as part of my heart, that I’d never used or felt before, opened up and flooded with love, joy and knowing. It was spiritual, chemical and visceral. It was heaven on earth, and from that moment on his gender meant nothing to me. I had just given birth to a perfect child and had been given a gift from all who had come before me.
 
When we were leaving the hospital, a few of the nurses on the elevator started giggling “'You’re that mom we’ve all been talking about, you were really out of it and saying some very funny stuff.”" I still wonder what I said that I can’t remember. Some of the staff were quite put out that we wouldn’t commit to a name for the birth certificate, but none of our girl names were working for us, so they would just have to wait. He was '“The Baby”" for weeks. My parents would send letters with long lists of names like Declan, Oliver and Reginald. When his dad and I finally agreed upon Sam, it was strange to call him that for a while. He was “The Baby” to me.

So much has happened over the last 17 years. His father and I split when he was 4, I got married when he was 10, baby Finn was born when he was 12 and his dad moved far away when he was 14, which brought a whole new dimension to our relationship, as Sam chose to go with him. Sam has been an extraordinary son - sensitive, wise, brave, bright and self-sufficient. Even though he feels like a man, he is still my little boy and gives me much love, support and friendship. Sometimes he's a little rough around the edges but always soft in the middle. Once, when I was on the phone and Sam was 8 or so, he was crawling all over my lap and took the pen out of my hand to scribble on my pad of paper. I scornfully sent him from the room until I was done talking. When I got off the phone and looked at the paper, there it was. I "heart" mom. Ouch, I apologized and thanked him. I still carry it with me in my wallet on the off chance I get stranded somewhere and need some connection with the boy who changed the shape of my heart forever. Happy Birthday Sam.

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