This is a time capsule letter for my firstborn, my GloWorm, our MLK,
I meant to write you a proper letter for your 5th birthday but now, you are already about to turn five-and-a-half on 5.25.
Today is your first day back at Kindergarden after missing three days last week, including your step-up ceremony. You were hospitalized for asthma for two nights and two-and-a-half days after the doctor could not get your oxygen levels up, even though she had given you three back-to-back-to-back doses of albuterol and steroids.
When we heard that you had to go to the ER, we all reacted differently.
Daddy became even calmer. He said he had to.
I started crying as Daddy pressed the elevator button with you in his arms, after he had packed a few things. “My podoh-ahl [grape pulp], the last time you had to be in the hospital was when you were born. I want you home and healthy!”
Ellis was still his funny self, asking for second dinner and for Mommy to play hide and seek because Mommy was so preoccupied. I snapped at him that I need some quiet and that I was sad. But at night, when he realized that you and Daddy weren’t going to be home, he said, “I’m going to punch the doctors in the face for taking my bruddah away.”
Micah, when you and Daddy weren’t here, even for just that first night when Daddy slept over at the hospital with you, the apartment just felt wrong!
I felt like my heart was outside my body, sleeping over at the Children’s Hospital, wheezing and struggling to breathe.
I even missed your whining, which usually drives me mad. Actually, I didn’t miss your whining but I wished you were healthy ENOUGH to whine, in theory (where I could not hear you).
I wanted to crawl into your lungs and make them come correct, damnit.
On Friday morning, I called your dad to tell him that you most likely would not be discharged until the afternoon, so no use coming by in the early morning before heading out to the office.
Your dad said, “No, I just need to come by and see our whole family together.”
Your recent hospital stay reminded me of just how much we love you and how this family needs each member. It also made me realize that on a universal level, one is beloved just by being born. Not into a perfect family by any means, but by virtue of being born, you are beloved by someone or some ones.
Also made me think we need to recruit more family members but I digress.
I also remembered the times you left me breathless (oof, no pun intended), just by being you.
Like when we recently went on a spring break getaway to the Berkshires, Daddy and I were sitting in the hot tub with you guys, but beating ourselves up for forgetting to bring swim floaties.
“How we gonna forget swim floaties on a hotel-swim vacation? Where is our head?”
Micah: “How about we just thank God that we are here?” (Word. Schooled by our young son.)
Or when we went to hike to a waterfall on that same vacation, you and I were able to have the most special time, walking among the logs and dead leaves, and you said, “Mommy, you know when I just don’t listen to you? That’s my bad. I will do better. I know it’s not easy.”
Or when we went away just to the nearby suburb of Plainview for Mother’s Day and we said we won’t have bedtimes and we were going to eat lots of chips even after dinner. You grew very serious and said, “This is a big night, guys.”
Or when you were lying on top of me on a bench at the Museum of Natural History in LA and I said, “Oh, I wish I had my sunglasses!” and you said, “I’ll be your sunglasses,” as you covered my eyes with your still-small face.
That was my favorite moment of our most recent trip to LA because I know that soon you will be too grown to agree to lie down on top of me like a blanket so that I can cuddle you and caress your face and tell you how you is kind and you is beautiful and you is beloved.
I even addressed that with you again, during our special hike to the waterfall, about how our relationship will change as you grow older and you answered in your usual thoughtful and literal manner.
“Mommy, when I turn into a man and you keep wanting to hug me, and you said I won’t want to hug you as much, I will at least stand there so that you can hug me. And of course, I will visit you – my kids have to play with you!”
Thank you for getting better and breathing better today.
Thank you for joining our family and being exactly who you are, even though you prefer your Daddy these days. And now is not the time to blow up your spot by including other less precious moments when we are butting heads down Queens Blvd.