April 3, 2020: Mini Me

It was about 8 and a half years ago that my wife and I went to the hospital. We (she) had decided that we wanted to know the sex of the baby; her mother accompanied us on this visit. It was our first child, and yes, of course, having a healthy baby and healthy wife was the only thing on my mind; that was first and foremost by a long shot. But when it came to the sex of the baby, there was a clear choice in my mind; of course I wanted a boy. I would have been overjoyed with a healthy girl as well, but having a son of my own, a mini me, would be the ultimate in my mind.

My wife had gotten pregnant pretty quickly; I think it was the second time we really tried…. she would know for sure. As we rolled into the hospital that day, we were nervous and excited. After looking at the ultrasound, it was pointed out to us that the baby growing in my wife’s stomach was a boy; woo hoo!!! We were both very happy; she was relieved. I think I may have mentioned it/put some pressure as if she had any control, about really wanting a boy… and now we had one in the oven. Of course still a long way to go to get him out into this earth, but we still went out to celebrate… to Miller’s Pub. I remember having some ribs; I was on cloud 9. I couldn’t wait.

I would teach him everything I know, and hope that he would be better than me in every way. I would pray that my wife and I wouldn’t screw this up. He turned out to be the very best thing we ever did together. And today, on this April 3, he is turning 8 years old.

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When I feel like stopping writing this stupid thing that I do, I think of him; I tell myself that doing all this, writing every day, I am creating something I could pass on to him. It’s not like I have a family business or anything. It’s not like I’m trying to make anything more out of this than what it is… than what it started to be: my therapy. I hope I’ll be around a good long time… long enough for him to know everything about me, the good and the bad; right now, he knows of mostly the good… and that’s OK. I feel that I need to be around to show him everything I can… to give him all the tools he needs to be a great person, knowing that there is no guarantee with any of it. I do know this: I continue to cherish every moment we’re together; I really do live every day with my son like it’s my last.

I’m very blessed to have my wife and him. Especially through this time of isolation, when it’s only us 3 right now… and our dog of course, I feel good about it. I feel like we’ve done a pretty damn good job thus far, and at the same time, know we have a long ways to go. We tried to give him the best possible birthday we could, not being able to have a big blowout party for him like we do every year. We will have plenty to celebrate once this is over.

He woke up at 530am and walked over to our bed. He told me “Dad, I’m 8 years old!” I gave him a hug and a kiss and told him Happy Birthday; my wife did the same. Then we both tried to get him to go back to sleep; it didn’t work. And so the day began… Happy Birthday Boy!