When I turned 29, coconut cupcakes marked the day. Baked with love by my mother in my own kitchen, with my daughter happily involved, they were a sweet surprise delivered to my hospital room by my pastor and his wife. That day, amidst the coconut sweetness, I introduced my newborn son to some of my dearest friends.
Tomorrow, June 23rd, we celebrate again, you and I. This week, the familiar scent of coconut filled my kitchen as I baked those same cupcakes. I shared them with neighbors, indulging in a few more than I probably should have after you were asleep. But tomorrow, our celebration will be slightly different. Tomorrow, we will share a dairy-free, wheat-free, nut-free birthday cake, adorned with playful Lego-shaped candles.
I remember vividly the day you were born. The nurse, glancing at the date on my hospital admission bracelet, remarked with a knowing smile, “Here is a son who will never forget his mother’s birthday.” And she was right. Tomorrow, I will likely remind you a couple of times that it is also my birthday. But at seven years old, you’re wonderfully absorbed in your own world, and honestly, it doesn’t bother me much at all. Because you, my son, are undeniably the Best Birthday Gift I have ever received.
There’s a deeper story woven into those words, a story I find myself revisiting every year on this special day. It’s a narrative that begins with longing. A deep, heartfelt desire for another child, a sibling for our daughter. But my body seemed to have other plans. After our first pregnancy, after navigating diagnoses and specialists, I naively believed the second time would be straightforward. We understood the challenges, and we wouldn’t delay in seeking solutions.
But it wasn’t easy. It was, in fact, profoundly harder. The medications I had placed my hopes in proved ineffective, leading to a disheartening sense of hopelessness.
Looking back now, I am filled with gratitude for every month, every year, of waiting for you. Those months of yearning transformed the words of Job into my personal truth: “My ears had heard of you but now my eyes have seen you.” Now, like all parents, when those inevitable worries creep in, when I imagine the myriad of potential dangers, fear doesn’t hold the same power. I have come to know that God meets us in our pain, and there is no encounter quite like that.
Yet, our hearts are complex, and fear can be stubbornly persistent. Even after the miracle of your conception, anxieties I hadn’t acknowledged began to cloud my thoughts. I felt an overwhelming sense of owing something, a fear that there would be a price to pay for this blessing. I became convinced that something might be wrong with you.
Then came that day, six months into the pregnancy. A stranger, with gentle hands, placed them on my shoulder and offered a prayer. In that moment, something shifted. A dam of fear broke, and when I emerged from the torrent of emotion, the anxiety had dissipated. In the quiet of my heart, I heard what felt like God’s own voice whisper, “This boy is a gift. A good and perfect gift. There is no price to pay.”
Perhaps I should have seen it coming. Your due date was so close to my own birthday. Why didn’t I anticipate this beautiful coincidence? But God’s plans, His stories, are always infinitely more wonderful than anything we could possibly imagine for ourselves.
And so it was, you were born on my birthday. You arrived as a good and perfect gift, presented on the day I turned 29. You are, truly, the best birthday gift.
Since that day, life has presented reasons for fear, for both of us. I have fed you with my own hands and witnessed the terror in your eyes as your tiny throat began to close. I have dialed 911 for you more times than I can bear to count. I have seen you looking so fragile and small in a hospital emergency room bed.
And yet, through it all, I have never doubted those whispered words. There is nothing fundamentally wrong with you. You are, indeed, perfectly made, in His eyes and mine. The worst might happen, but the Love that created you will always be there to care for you. I pray constantly for your healing, but deep down, I know my prayers were answered long before I even spoke them.
Our birthday celebrations have evolved from coconut cupcakes to blue marshmallow cakes, to gluten-free bakery creations with Lego candles. And through it all, these truths have become undeniably clear:
God is good.
There is no need to be afraid.
And this: our lives are intricate stories, and these stories are lovingly written.
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