When you wake in the morning, you will be seven. Seven years ago, I wasn’t labouring with you, yet. I awoke and spent the morning laughing with your father, eating leftover pizza and wondering if today would be the day. By that point, you were six days overdue and induction was being talked about for the following Wednesday.
We had guests arrive, when my waters broke, of course. They didn’t notice, so much did I want this to be a quiet family affair.
Seven hours later, you were in my arms. And I was wondering what I had done. At 6:03pm on the 16th of August, you arrived. I told you tonight that you were born during the simpsons and it made you laugh hysterically.
You were chubby. Little blue fists and deep blue eyes. White skin and wrinkled cheeks. You screamed a little and then just settled…. Not wanting to feed, but look around at your new world, your new family. I could see you putting voices to names and faces – you understood the connections better than I did.
You still do.
Six has been magic. You are reading, writing and doing incredible sums in your head. You have friendships and dance beautifully. You are amazing.
We love you.
Happy Birthday, boy.