Moms & Sons

He tends his flock like a shepherd: he gathers the lambs in his arms and carries them close to his heart; he gently leads those that have young.

—Isaiah 40:11

The summer I was pregnant with Henry, my mom and I spent a week in Chicago, taking a class at a Catholic graduate school. On Tuesday morning of that week, my dad called from South Haven to tell us that my brother had been in a bad car accident. Todd called a few minutes later to tell us that he was fine, and we felt blessed and lucky and a little bit like it wasn’t real, because he sounded so fine on the phone.

Later, though, we talked to Dad again, and he told us how different it would have been if the cars had been a second earlier or later in the intersection. My brother could have died that morning. This was not a near miss but a miracle.

My mom began to cry. She cried for her son, for what could have happened, for being far away from him. We both put our hands on my belly, on my son, while she talked to him through her tears. She said, “Be careful, Henry. We love you so much.” We sat there for a long time, she thinking about her big, grown son, and me thinking about my tiny son, curled up inside me.