Six years ago today, I watched you come into this world. You gave me a scare, first by taking so long, then by coming out with a weak pulse – while your momma waited exhausted and anxious, I tried to play it cool as the doctors and nurses quietly but with firm intent suctioned the amniotic fluid from your mouth and nose, and used a mask and bulb to get you breathing. In an instant your skin tone turned from blue to pink, and you coughed and breathed for the first time. In that moment, my heart soared and I breathed with you.
Beautiful boy, ever since you came into my life, you’ve changed it, and have given me meaning. You’ve erased my existential angst, and assured me that no matter what goes wrong in my life, as long as you’re in it, I’m going to be just fine. Every day has been a beautiful journey, some days are easy, some are hard, but each one of them have been worth it.
I’m constantly amazed at who you are becoming, with your intelligence, your grace, your wisdom, your love and caring, your goofiness and wit. Your will and your trust amaze me every day. Some days I don’t take full advantage of your presence, and for that I am truly sorry. Other days, I drink you in completely and we laugh together, knowing the beauty which is each other. Tomorrow we celebrate your birthday at the exploratorium. I hope it’s as fun and exciting as I think it might be for you. It’s 3 AM now, so I am going to get to sleep, and hopefully have enough energy to be fully engaged.
So, my little rock star, let’s have a great time tomorrow, what do you say? Let’s paint the town red, and show those folks at the Exploratorium just how it’s done.