Dear Buddy,
Five years ago today, you came into my life. You gave us … I
mean all of us, including our doctor, a scare because you firmly
decided that you would not be coming in the way I had hoped. Labor was going so
well … you wanted to enter this world fast … that was until you realized the way through
which you’d have to go to enter this world. That was exactly when the
contractions got stronger and you thought better of it and said “no, no, no!”
It was truly a miracle that you are here. You see, your heart rate failed to come back up despite all sorts of positions I was in, and the stomach massages and coaxing from our doctor. Then, an onslaught of
doctors and nurses flooded to our delivery room. There was no time for
paperwork … consent had to be given verbally. It had already been a few
minutes since your heart rate dropped to a dangerous level and we needed to get you out. Soon, I was
being rolled out of the room towards the OR. On the way another doctor and more nurses came to my
bedside. They smiled at me as they introduced themselves - think they were trying to keep me calm. My mind was still grappling with the gravity of the situation and my emotion hadn't caught up. The last thing I could remember clearly before
someone tried to put an oxygen mask over my face was our doctor saying “this is going
really well for your first baby … let's have this baby", which was a signal that we're ready to push.
After that, things were blurry and somewhat in slow motion
for me. I had no idea how quickly I was being rushed to the OR … from what your
baba described afterwards, it sounded like a scene from ER (a popular TV show
long before your time). There was no small talk. Everyone was focused on
getting you out. Your baba was told to get his camera and wait outside until
he’s called while someone threw him a set of scrubs. It seemed like everyone,
including me, was holding his/her breath until, finally, we heard you - you cried with all the capacity of your little lungs. The tenseness melted away in the OR and I sensed smiles across everyone's face. The first person to ever
speak to you was our doctor. She said “you scared me, baby”.
I couldn’t name you right away because I felt that I needed
to really look at you and sense your name. I’m sure it was all post-partum
hormones. Seriously! It’s not like I can know you well after only 3 days
filled with feeding struggles, reading your cries and analyzing your poops.
Frankly, after 5 years together, I am still getting to know you. You
amaze me everyday with your kind heart, thirst for learning, determined focus
(when something engages you), creative and inquisitive mind, and sensitive
soul. You have such an intuitive notion of right and wrong, and show such courage to share your ideas. I love it when you start a sentence with “I have
an idea …” because your eyes are so big and bright, full of light, as if the
idea from your beautiful mind can’t wait to burst through them.
On the day you were born, you made me a mother … more
importantly, each day since, you’ve challenged me to grow in ways I didn’t know
I could. Thank you!
Happy birthday my baby! Here's to many more years of getting to know you and learning together.
Happy birthday my baby! Here's to many more years of getting to know you and learning together.
Love,
-Mama
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