I’m looking through pictures of the day you were born Andrew, which happens to be ten years ago TODAY by the way!! – and I can’t help but think that I had no idea what the hell I was doing and what I had just gotten myself into.

But on March 12th, 2002 at 11:35 a.m, there you were, in all of your naked 7lb 15oz glory and two thoughts were simultaneously going through my mind:

1. OW!!!!!!!!! THAT REALLY HURT!!!!



I don’t mean to make it all about me on your special day dude, but I’ve already written you a birthday love note on my special needs column so if you don’t mind, I’d like to share your birth story, which I’ve never done before.

Your daddy and I were living in Irvine in a one bedroom apartment that we paid way too much money for and we had come down to your baba and dziadziu’s house for dinner. Mommy wasn’t feeling so hot so she decided she would eat later and after dinner your daddy and I left and headed to a nearby gas station to fill the car up. Once I got out of the car I doubled over from a pain I had never felt before and your daddy got very scared. I think I told him to “Calm the hell down” or something like that and he insisted that we go to the hospital to get me checked out. I had never been in labor before so I wasn’t sure what to expect but I was pretty positive this wasn’t it. I was starting to get hungry and I told your daddy that I would agree to go to the hospital for a check up if he promised me a fat burrito from El Taco on the way home. He agreed (more out of fear than anything else) and so we headed to the hospital.

By the time we got there I was STARVING and even though the pain had gotten worse all I could think about was food (which coincidentally is not that different from any other day so….). After hooking me up to a bunch of electronic devices, the nurses and doctor confirmed I was in labor and I had to stay at the hospital. I looked at your father and said “You best be heading to El Taco right about now and getting me that damn burrito you promised.” But the nurse shook her head and said I couldn’t eat a burrito and I said, “Fine, a carnita then.” And she said “Nope.” “A quesadilla?” I asked. “Uh uh, but I can bring you some jello and ice chips,” she said and it was at this point that I made the conscious decision to sit on my hands so that I wouldn’t punch her or your daddy.

The ice chips and jello SUCKED because they didn’t taste anything like a burrito from El Taco, but by this time I had been in labor for about five hours and the pain of a human being trying to make it’s way out of me was beginning to compete with the pangs of hunger I was feeling and every time your daddy opened his mouth to try and calm me down I told him to “Can It” though my choice of words may have been a little less G-rated. I want to go on record here Andrew and tell you that I love your father very much and I have always loved him, but I have loved him the very bare minimum possible when I was in labor with both you and your brother.

Anyway, the bottom line is that the next day, after 13 hours of continuous hunger (and labor) I finally caved and got an epidural (and I say “caved” not because I’m against them but because I’m terrified of giant needles especially when they’re headed straight for my spine) and after another four hours you finally made your grand entrance and after making our introductions, as they cleaned you off and weighed you, I reached into a bag your grandmother had brought to the hospital the night before and in it I found a 2 day old bagel with old meat and old cheese and I ate that damn bagel like it was the last piece of food on the planet and as I chewed on the stale goodness I was too drunk with love to realize just how low I had sunk.

If you asked me if I would do it all over again, knowing what I know now, I would say yes. Every single time. But I would have made sure to make my baby daddy stop at El Taco first.

Though if you must know, you were the cutest, most perfect, most delicious little burrito I had ever laid eyes on, and El Taco had nothing on you kid.

Happy 10th Birthday baby.

Yep. You’re still my baby.

And I still can’t believe how lucky I am when I look at you and let it sink in that I’m your mama.

Kocham cie.

That look on my face? That's that stale bagel making it's way back up. I paid for that decision for hours.
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