I don’t remember the day of the week.

I remember that I was starving, and your daddy promised me a giant veggie burrito from El Taco. I doubled over at the local gas station, and it never occurred to me that I might be going into labor. I had no idea what it would feel like; I was just so scared that something was wrong.

We drove to the hospital, and decided to get dinner on the way home. When they gently informed me that I was in the first stages of labor and that I was going to be admitted, all I could think about was that I wouldn’t be getting my burrito after all. Hours later, when I complained first about the hunger, secondly about the pain, the nurse brought in a small cup of jello and ice chips. Buffet maternity ward style.

Your daddy tried to be brave, but as my contractions got worse, his face got paler. We called home and it was the middle of the night. The nurse assured us that we had PLENTY of time before our arrival and to try and get some rest. (Why they even bother to say that to a woman in labor I will never know).

You entered the world at 11:29 a.m, and I felt a mixture of emotions that cannot be described in human terms. Love at first sight isn’t even strong enough. You were so tiny and I was so tired and daddy looked at me and said “No matter what wrongs you may cause me in the future, you are forgiven, because of this moment.” Or something like that. Remember daddy?

We took you home days later, and when we placed you in the crib you looked like a cabbage patch doll. I didn’t know human beings came so small! I didn’t know something so small could be so powerful.

I didn’t know many things.

You and I.

We have been seven years in the making.

You made me a mother.
And I still have no idea what I’m doing.
But you forgive me and remind me of what is important.

You have taught me patience, pain, tolerance, compassion, forgiveness, protection, jealousy, joy, resolve, resilience, an all-encompassing love that somehow manages to grow each day, surpassing all logical limits, giving me a inner-strength and courage I never knew I possessed.

You have done more for me son, then I could ever do for you.
You are nothing short of a miracle.
You have no judgments.
You wake up each day, a smile on your face, ready to love and create and laugh.
Despite the obstacles that you are challenged with, you love life.

How can that be?

You are pure and we are blessed in your presence.

You are Seven years in the making.
Just getting started.
Leading us on a journey we never could have predicted.

And we are so in love.

Happy Birthday Monchichi.

Sweet, Strong, Brilliant YOU.
Sto Lat.
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3 Replies to “Seven Years in the Making”

  1. happy birthday handsome fella.

    your husband is so great for saying that. how smart. now i want a burrito reeeeally bad.

  2. Love this post!! Im want to follow your blog but i don’t see a place for followers, so I’ll just keep check back!

  3. You’ve really captured the essence of a mother’s love in a beautiful, powerful way.

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