Fifteen years ago today, our son, Andito, drew his first breaths in this world. He was a solid 9-pound boy. When I think back on those days when I was very pregnant and about to embark on motherhood, I had no idea the ride I was in for. No woman does. You just can’t, even when being a mother is the thing you have always wanted. To say that I wanted to be the best mother I could be for our son is a mild and tempered description of the drive that burned inside. Having a boy gave me some anxiety because growing up, it was just my sister and me, no boys. I knew all about the importance of raising a confident and all around healthy girl, but what did it mean to raise a confident and all around healthy boy? I remember journaling on this point several times before and after Andito was born. How do you teach a boy to respect women and what it means to be a man? I wondered what he would look like, what his personality would be like. What his hobbies would be? I wondered what kind of man he would become? What memories of his childhood would he hold dear? What moments would leave wounds? Would his father or I be the culprit of any of those wounds? Will he get married and start a family of his own? What will his occupation be?
If I could whisper to that younger mom in a dream, I would tell her not to worry so much. I would tell that younger me to behold every dimpled, chubby cheek smile and watch how a precious child can brighten up the space he occupied. Those smiles were infectious to any who saw them. I would have told that young mom to film those little fingers signing for “help” or for “more.” I would tell her that Andito will become a handsome young man whose intellect and wit rivals his father’s. I would tell her of the courage he has to do things outside his comfort zone. He is quiet but always listens and picks up on more than most would credit him. He has a steady group of friends that we have enjoyed watching him grow up around. I would tell her of how he accepted Christ as his Savior at 13 years, and he continues to grow in his faith. His love languages include affirmation and family time. I would mention his appreciation for music, and his journey into this world was all because he started playing the violin in 5th grade. I would tell that young mom of the disappointment he felt in losing chess games and not getting picked for the tennis team one year. But he triumphed over the disappointment. He persevered and finally won chess on his own accord and continued playing tennis, tried again for the tennis team and got in. He is firm in his belief in recycling and loves animals and the natural world they inhabit. I would tell that young mom to prepare to learn from him! I learned about wabagong sharks, the dakosaurus creature that was more fascinating than T. Rex. I would tell that young mom that he loves World War II planes, tanks, artillery, and can spot inaccurate depictions in movies; he has a remarkable eye for detail when it matters to him.
But most importantly I would tell that younger me, that when he turns 15, he will be a young man that towers over her, he is quick to get the door for others, and has a depth of character that has been a privilege to witness form. Sometimes we get so bogged down with the obligation of parenting that we forget the honor it is to help shape another human being. He makes us proud and brings us joy, not because of any accomplishment or title. We are proud of him, and he brings us joy because he is a phenomenal individual whom we love dearly.
Happy birthday hijo 🙂
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