I imagined you a thousand times
as you rolled in my belly
while I read Dave Barry books
and ate pancakes that resembled
a mid-size sedan

You signaled you were ready
while I was pumping gas
into a car that had an empty (and clean) backseat
and I begged daddy to get me that giant burrito
but he floored it and got me to the hospital in record time
(I got ice chips and lime jello instead)

Oh Son.
Thank God the euphoria
and the unconditional love
flooded my insides the minute we met
because it
getting you here
and I might have held a grudge otherwise

I fumbled
I tripped
I felt like a failure
those first few days
your skin wrinkled like a little old man
your tiny body disproportionate to your Giant needs
as I wondered what on earth I was doing
taking care of YOU
when most of the house plants I’d ever owned
um, didn’t fare so well

You were my first
so I had no one to compare you to
but I knew something was wrong
as I kissed chubby fingers that wouldn’t point
stared into endless blue eyes that were always looking beyond me
towards something I was beginning to dread
an emptiness that flickered
inbetween perfect smiles and soft lullabies

You defined motherhood for me
then the doctors redefined it
as they finally named your struggles
on an ordinary Spring afternoon
so I held you tighter
kissed you harder
tried to break through your gaze with my love on the way home that day

Eight years.
Eight years
filled to the brim
with triumphs
the kind of laughter that threatens to never stop
Eight years
of the kind of Love
that only God is capable of creating
when he blesses a family
with a child like you

I write son because it is what I do
but I have yet to find the words
that would do justice
to what I feel in my heart
when you are in my arms
your sweet breathe in synch with mine
when you dot the house in mystery cans
and pull out the blow-up snowman in mid-June
when you steal pillar candles from unassuming hosts
and use string cheese as an accessory

when you enter a room and fill it with your light
and remind everyone around you

that love
and joy
and all that is good and pure and true in this world
can be felt
in the presence
of an amazing
little boy
like you

Happy Birthday Monchichi.

I love you.

Spread the love

6 Replies to “Tonight We Will Sing Happy Birthday For the 1,356th Time This year. But Really Mean It This Time.”

  1. Sto Lat my gorgeous! Ciocia loves you more than her lamb bag =) a million kisses….PUMPKINNNN!!

  2. I just discovered you thanks to OHmommy's tweet. This is so amazingly beautiful. Tears are flowing as I write this. My nephew is also Autistic and I can't tell you how many candles of mine he has collected and played with over the years! Happy Birthday to your beautiful son!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.