Twenty

Our son was born today. He’s beautiful. He’s more than perfect. Perfection wouldn’t be this special. His name is Christopher. He has your eyes. The doctor said that often, when they get older, their eye color changes. I hope his doesn’t. I hope he has your eyes forever.

The doctor delivered him in our home. Apparently, it’s not that uncommon an occurrence here. So many people, like us, don’t have any insurance. He said he was just happy to help, that it was his favorite part of his job. You were so strong. I’ve never seen such strength in my entire life. You were quiet and determined, as if pain were just a nuisance you didn’t have time for. I hope Christopher knows how lucky he is to have you for a mother. I hope he knows that nothing in the world will ever compare to the love and sacrifices that you’ve made for him. The look on your face when the doctor handed him to you for the first time was one that I will never forget. That look made everything I’ve gone through in my entire life all worth it. I’ve finally given something meaningful to the world.

I was glad we were able to have him at home. I was afraid of going back to the hospital after the debacle in Charleston. Besides, now Christopher was born off the grid. Now there’s no record that he even exists. There’s no way for anyone to know where he came from. Officially, he was born to ghosts. Hopefully, that will help to keep him safe.

I don’t even have words to describe how I feel. Maybe I’m too tired. Maybe the words just don’t exist. Our son was born today. I feel like I was reborn with him. Thank you, Maria. You’ve given me such a gift. You’ve given me more than I deserve.