In my mind, today is Cason's birthday. Yes, he was born on November 17th, 9 months from this date, but this date, March 17, St. Patrick's Day, this is the one where he was born in my dreams. This date was the date I found out he was a possibility. And even though I spent the next nine months biting my nails, closing my eyes to shut out the ever present fear and crying, lots of that, I still, at some point almost every day would allow myself to hope, that maybe, just maybe, a live baby was coming.
And he did.
And we named him Cason Patrick, because on March 17th, he, my very own little leprechaun, planted a tiny fleck of hope in my oh so weary heart, enough to begin to chase the snakes that had taken up residence there away and for the first time in months I began to dare to imagine that I really didn't know how the whole story was going to end. And that maybe, just maybe, a new chapter was beginning.
And as luck would have it, I did indeed, catch me a leprechaun.