Today you are four years old. You entered this world kicking and screaming–and three weeks early. Your papi describes it as an “X-Files” moment. One minute I was lying on an operating table with a doctor looming over me; the next you were here, ready to take on the world.
The day you were born was one of the most joyful, yet scary, days of my life. I was thilled that the day had finally come, and that Zoe’s little brother would finally be here. But I was afraid, afraid that the trauma that your sister suffered at birth would be repeated. A first-time mom, I waited for your sister’s first cry, which did not come–not until days later. She was a baby born teetering on a precipice between life and death. And as your birth drew nearer, the hopes I had for you were simple: Please, God, let him be healthy. Let me hear that cry and know that he’s alright.
I see elements of your dad and me in you everyday. Though make no mistake about it; you have a fire and personality all your own. You are one of the funniest kids I’ve ever met. You are a flirt, always knowing when to turn on the charm (Lord help me when you get older). You and your sister are best friends, and it shows. You run up and hug me for no particular reason, and it warms my heart.
Happy Birthday, my sweet baby boy.