My favorite New Year's Eve meal was in 1996.
December 31, 1996--when a plastic cafeteria tray of room temperature filet mignon was placed on my lap, while I lay propped up against crunchy pillows, bare breasted, in a fetching grey checked hospital gown, celebrating New Year's Eve just hours after giving birth to a beautiful 8 lb. 10 oz. baby boy.
I've had three children, and I've had no more thrilling surprise in my life than finally seeing what your child looks like after waiting nine months. The ultrasounds hint at features, but the 3D real life presentation of their little faces has always left me without any flowery speech, and reduced me to the most basic of sentiments. When the nurses first showed me Xavier, I could only trace his tiny little mouth with my finger, and eke out, "you look just like your dad."
Happy Birthday, Xavier--you were my best New Year's ever. Your dad wanted to high five you for just squeaking in as a tax deduction for the year; I breathed a sigh of relief that after 5 1/2 months of bed rest we had made it--I was ecstatic to finally hold you.
No meal has since come close, no restaurant atmosphere has even touched on the magic of that New Year's Eve, 16 years ago today, when I first saw you.
|Xavier, one minute old. (you can't see his tiny little mouth)|
Happy Birthday, wonderful son. I love you very, very much, you awesome kid.