Happy (Belated) Birthday Elliot

Yesterday you turned four. It’s hard to believe you were born four years ago; I remember it so clearly. Well, some of it. The drugs were very, very good. You were born via an unplanned c-section. While they were preparing me for the surgery a very nice, soft-voiced nurse held my hand and told me the risks. After she left I sent your dad to find my doctor and confirm this information. Not being able to drive for six weeks was a deal breaker for me; I would just push you out. So, you can see where my priorities were.

When I saw you for the first time I was shocked. Might even have asked whose you were, you had an entire head of black hair. My hair? Not so black. I had actually decided you would come out with red hair; I was sure you’d look like Opie. Yes, I know you inherited genes from your dad too. But that night I was the one laying on the operating table with a giant hole in my abdomen, so it seemed logical that you should look like me. You looked so much like your dad that the day after you were born a nurse walked into our room and said, “well there’s no questing who daddy is.” Tonight I noticed more dark red highlights in your hair. This summer you started to freckle. I guess you are mine.

I wouldn’t trade you for anything. Happy birthday sweet boy, you’re my favorite four-year old.