I can’t even remember what my official due date was, I believe it was the 5th, all I knew is that it came and went and I felt this rush of urgency over a bomb I had no control in the detonation of. Waking each morning and wondering if today was the day; my concentration on minuscule things like the weather or what astrological sign he (though we did not know it was a ‘he’ at the time) would be born under.
All the anxiety and anticipation bounding inside me, like water on the brink of boiling. So that when it did happen, it happened without question, an audible pop from inside me like the cork flying out of a champagne bottle.
Our only planned hospital birth and as irony would have it, he was nearly born in the car. Forty-five minutes of complete surrender to a pain that left no room to even will it’s disappearance. A few minutes collecting things at home, a 25 minute drive, a 10 minute transfer up to a room, and five minutes total in a hospital bed. And there he was, in my arms, all 10 lbs of him. Another boy. But more importantly, another healthy boy.
My sweet Sonny, I fought for you. You are the third I knew I always wanted well before you were even you. I had no hope of who you’d be or what you’d be, I just knew I needed you. And now I know why. You are potentially (I mean, I can always hold onto hope, right?) the last piece to the puzzle. You are so loved and you have protection built in for life by way of two older brothers that adore you but hate when you touch their legos. Happy first birthday, mi amor.
(Sonny’s birth story can be found here).