My precious Pudding

Today is Pudding’s birthday.

I love him so much.

Every July 4th, when we go to see fireworks, I am reminded of 2007, the year in which I heard fireworks cascading all around me as I went into labor.

Because I had had several false alarms, I thought that this most recent set of pangs was just more of the same. So I did what any sane woman in my condition would do.

I went shopping.

Yes. I was walking around in Whole Foods, talking to my aunt on the phone, and every 5 minutes or so I would stop, grab a shelf, and continue my conversation through gritted teeth. And then, I’d keep shopping.

Yes. I am a dumb ass.

You know what was even more stupid? (Yes, apparently you can get even MORE stupid than that. Or at least, I can.)

For some reason that I can only attribute to my brain being absolutely FRIED by pregnancy, I thought that I could go through the ENTIRE NIGHT like this and just call the doctor in the morning. So we all went to bed, and I sat there reading, and then I couldn’t really concentrate and I was tired, so I dozed off….

And had a contraction that OF COURSE woke me up, went on for about a minute, and then died down.

And somehow, SOMEHOW, I thought that going through an ENTIRE NIGHT of this, where I would get sleep BETWEEN CONTRACTIONS, was going to work out.


I can’t remember what time it was when I actually realized that these pains were not staying the same or subsiding, and that there was no way on God’s green Earth that I could go through several hours of this supposedly CHILLING out and getting sleep. Because I wasn’t really GETTING any sleep. DUH.

I do remember that it was still dark outside when we got to the hospital, so clearly morning hadn’t arrived.

It was a crazy day with other anecdotes that I’ll save for another time, but…

At 10:40 in the morning, my Pudding was born.

My little man is growing up…

I love him to pieces. He is the #1 man in my life and even the Tech Guru knows that it is so, that it MUST be so, because I cradled him for 9 months in my womb, felt him kick, tickled his foot through my skin, nursed him for 3 years (yes, 3 years and keep it to yourself if you have a problem with it, okay? For YOUR sake.) You choose your spouse but…your child is your flesh reborn. He is mine, my gift from God, in a way that only he (and Punksin) can ever be.

I love him. I look at him and he always makes me smile with his intelligent smirk, his extremely infectious laugh that never fails to start me up, his high-pitched little voice…that I record from time to time, because I know that one day, it will change…the timber will go down, down in his chest, how far only time will tell, and I hope and pray that he will always call me Mom or Mommy but I know it will be different from hearing that little high-pitched voice that always says, “Mommy?” with that little rise at the end. And he looks at me, and I know he feels safe and secure and that for now…for now and for a little while longer, I am his everything.

My love for him brings me to tears. My joy at his presence inspires my brightest smile, especially on my darkest days. God sent me His laughter through my son, so that I could laugh too. And I am so so grateful.

Happy birthday Pudding. As I tell you all the time, and I hope you never forget it, Mommy loves you to the ends of the universe…

And the end of time.

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