Tag Archives: Birthday

The Day We Met

Seven years ago today I met you for the first time,  even though I knew you for some months before that. I knew you when I first felt you move inside me. I knew you when I saw your blurry image on an ultrasound.

Ultrasound at 21 weeks

Throughout those months when I carried you within me, I dreamt of you. Who would you look like? What would you be like? I couldn’t wait to meet you. Even though your daddy and I had only been married a short while, we were ready for you. Your brother and sisters were excited and happy at the thought of you. While you grew inside me, we remodeled our house so that it would be big enough for all of us to live comfortably.  Soon you grew so big, I couldn’t get comfortable.

Diego and our house under construction.

When the doctor said it was time, we scheduled the appointment so you could be born.  The night before you were born, daddy and I went out to dinner. We laughed how it would probably be one of the last dinners we could have alone in a while, but we didn’t care. We were so excited to meet you and we wondered what the next day would bring.  Early in the morning, before the sun came up, we drove to the hospital. I was so nervous and excited, my heart was racing.  The nurses were concerned, but then my doctor came in and said it was okay. Your abuela, “Lala, ” called me on the phone and said a prayer for me in Spanish. I could hardly understand her because I was so nervous  and I was crying.

When I went into the delivery room, the doctors joked with me and there was music playing. I was nervous that your daddy was not going to be able to stay with me, but he did. He stayed with me until they pulled you out and took you away to examine you. You checked out great!

Diego, minutes old.

They showed you to me, but I could not hold you  right away. When the doctors finished taking care of me, I went back to my room.  I was anxious to see you again and hold you. Finally, they brought you to my room. Somebody gave you to me to hold. When I held you and looked at you, I cried again. But this time, I didn’t cry because I was excited or nervous. I cried because I was happy. I was happy to see you. I was happy to hold you. I was happy to meet you. Daddy was there and together, we held you and said hello.

Grandma and Grandpa arrived and they were happy to see you too.

Later that day, Lolo and Lala arrived to say hello.

And, at last, Nico, Erica and Olivia got to meet their new brother!

Since that day, we have shared many things. The baby years were a happy blur. It was such a busy time for you to come into our lives. We were remodeling our house, your siblings were in grade school, there were soccer games, baseball games, all kinds of activities. But you were a trooper, going places with us, never complaining. Over the years we have watched you grow into the funny, spirited, loving boy that you are. You make me laugh more than you make me cry. I love how you have such a special bond with your siblings. How you make friends so quickly. I love the way you question things that don’t seem right to you, like why some people are homeless.  I love the way you accept other things so easily, like the magic of leprechauns.

I love the way that you have brought our family closer, just because you are here. I love that you help me to live a different life–a richer life.  I love that you remind me to be patient, to be kind, to find joy in small things. I know that sometimes it’s hard being the youngest one in the family, because you want to do things like your older brother and sisters. But, there will be time for all of that. I don’t want it to come too soon. I love each day I have with you and each birthday I celebrate with you. I am so glad to be your mommy, I am so glad to have met you,  seven years ago today. Happy Birthday, my sweet boy.

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Freshly Pressed In My New Year

This morning I was all set to write a post about how I had a wonderful birthday. About how much I enjoyed breakfast in bed, prepared by my husband,

Breakfast in bed

and presented by Diego, with a smile.

Breakfast smile

I was going to post about how I spent the day with my boys at the beach…

Nico and I on my birthday.

…and the sky was clear, and blue, and the temperature, a perfect 70 degrees.

And,  I was going to write about how I was actually getting  started on my  bucket list of 50 Before  50 because  of the birthday gift Juan gave me, Number 47.

Number 47 on my list

I was going to post about how turning another year older wasn’t so bad, and celebrating my birthday as my own personal New Year was a positive spin on the “age” thing.  The post was in my head and I wanted to get it out.  I wanted to sit down with my laptop and write about it. But wouldn’t you know it?  I came home from a day at the beach and my refrigerator was dead. Everything in the freezer was thawed. We spent the evening dumping food, moving everything that hadn’t spoiled  to our back-up garage fridge. I had to help the boys with their homework, and I still needed groceries for the week. No time to write. My post just stayed in my head. I thought I might be able to get out a draft during my lunch hour, but first I had to check my email for responses to the T-Ball team party I was planning.

What? No email from the other T-ball families? But, I did see an email from WordPress. And then another, and another. And this…

My blog had been Freshly Pressed!  This post was featured, and I was receiving dozens of comments, and “likes.” What a great belated birthday surprise! Thank you everyone for reading and commenting. Thank you for subscribing. Thank you for, well, “liking” me.  I think this is going to be a good year.