Ten years ago, I was rushing to the grocery store to get more milk and food for Ben. He was 16 months old and eating at an alarming rate. Dad was at the library studying for his last final for law school. Rebecca was nearly five years old, busy rubbing my belly as she was excited for your arrival. Our happy family of four was getting ready to outgrow the comfortable booths at restaurants and would have to adjust to the hard chairs and tables after your arrival. Dad proudly told his sports-loving friends that we were preparing for the transition from man to man defense to zone defense, since we would shortly be outnumbered by children for the first time in our marriage. It was going to be three kids versus two parents.
We were surrounded by U-haul moving boxes, packing tape, and bubble wrap. Dad had accepted a job in Phoenix as a new attorney, and we would be moving to a new city only tens days after your birth. A home had been purchased and your room was already painted pink from the little girls who lived there before us. Dad had assembled a toddler play set and it was waiting for you and Ben on the back porch of our new home. We were anxiously awaiting your arrival.
You came into this world on April 25th, 2003 at 5:30 at night. You were the smallest of our three children, at 7 pounds 2 ounces, and Dr. Maciulla told your daddy that you were perfect and that he was in big trouble. Rebecca was stroking your head and Ben made you cry because he kept trying to kiss you with his hard pacifier in his mouth. Their love for you was palpable, right from the start. The next morning, when Dr. Maciulla came into the room to check on us, he asked how my little Mighty Mouse was doing. Wow, was that term prophetic for where you are almost ten years later!
Dad and I couldn’t love you anymore. It’s impossible. We consider it a joy and a privilege to be your parents.
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