You were born on a cold winter night (for me) and a normally warm night (for you) in a room with a beautiful view of the Hollywood Hills. I have been waiting almost 8 months, ever since I knew you existed, to hear if you are a boy or girl and know that you made your way safely into the world and what your Mother thinks of you. Let me tell you, when 8 months of waiting peaks in 24 hours of real waiting, I am about 10 times more of a spaz than usual. Here's how it went down.
Your Mom had previously decided that she would start or stop labor any time she felt like it depending on if your Dr had made it back into town or not. She succeeded, as she does at most things. She had been feeling "crampy" (in first stages of labor) for a few days, but decided to ignore that and go on with life because, you know, football was happening. She hiked and ate spicy food (my idea and based on zero science) and did everything else she could to coax you out. But, only at the right time. She had been in some form of labor probably since Saturday night, but didn't really know. Or refused to acknowledge it because she wanted to see the Black Eyed Peas half time show. Either way, her Dr made her leave a Superbowl party and go to the hospital.
I got the info Sunday night (right around 11pm my time). She was checking into the hospital. Shit got pretty real from there. We chatted through the night, she gave me all the updates on you. She sent me pictures of your heartbeats and contractions on the monitor and of your Dad trying to sleep. Her excitement came through plain as day, even in text form. I would try to sleep when she would sleep and I would stay awake and text when she was awake. When she was at the right point, they gave her drugs and she was "feeling great!!". I imagined her sitting there, all beautiful, with this pleasant smirk she gets on her face when she's not paying attention to anything around her but her Blackberry. I was trying to hang with her as best I could, but at 4:50am my time I sent a text that read "Lere are good with mrd?" that was supposed to be asking if your Dad was doing ok too. I came to hitting send. Anyway, at 5:04am my time, we let each other sleep until I woke up for work an hour and a half later.
Your Father took over from there. I texted her as soon as I woke up and he let me know she was sleeping. He hadn't much. He's just about as big a worrier as I am. He kept me updated all day long on Monday. Mostly telling me to stay calm or chill out. And that was impossible. I literally shook all day and had the focus of a hamster on meth. Waiting to hear if your best friend successfully had a healthy baby is like waiting for someone to tell you if you'll be able to keep the use of your arms or if you'll go through the rest of your life nudging things with just shoulder nubs. I know that births happen every single day all over the world, but I don't take anything for granted so worrying is my jam. Your Mom had her drugs way earlier and I didn't want them to wear off and for her to be in pain. She's not... good at it.
I made it through the work day, as did you. You held steady for quite some time, refusing to budge. I went home to wait. I tried to watch tv, but I kept having to rewind because I was so tired I was too dumb to understand Pretty Little Liars. Finally I gave up and perched on my bed. I sat there... and sat there.. and sat there. I listened to music that usually calms me and then resorted to watching Twilight, which is basically my catnip. Your Aunt told me when your Mom started to push and in true form I burst into tears. I had a pretty steady stream from that point on and was already dehydrated from a weekend bender, but that's neither here nor there. Aunt A refused to tell me what sex you were, she knew your parents would want to tell me, but she promised to tell me when you were safely into the world. She kept her promise. And getting that text was one of the best moments of my whole life. I knew that 2,200 miles away, you were here, with your parents and Grandparents and finally out under the same moon as me. (which I will remind you in the future, will always keep us close.) When I finally had enough, I demanded your Dad call me and fill me in....
Now for you.
You are a boy. You're a frickin boy! And not just any boy, you are NINE lbs, 13 oz. You are a total hoss. I guess you were listening every time I told you to Get Big, Get Big, Get Big! You have a ridiculously handsome face that is very round with a nose that matches your Mom's in the middle. So far, you remind me of your Uncle T, but once your Aunt A gets there and takes a thousand pictures of you, I'll be able to tell more. The important thing is that you are healthy. VERY healthy. And your Mom made it through just fine. Me, I'm still recovering from shot nerves. The day I was waiting for you to be born, I wore everything I possibly could to work that connected me to your Mom. Jeans that she picked out for me in the Valley, one of her sweaters, shoes she was with me when I bought, a locket she gave me with us in it and my hair long and wavy the way she likes it. You will learn soon enough that I'm incredibly sentimental. Annoyingly so.
I'm beyond excited to meet you, Duckybuns. For the rest of my life, I will be there when you need me. When your Dad is there to teach you about all the great cinematic achievements, I will be forwarding you clips from Stepbrothers and Ferris Bueller's Day Off. When your Mom is there to teach you about beautiful photography, I will be the one that explains to you that you must balance yourself on the sides of the photocopier when scanning your ass because you will eventually break the glass if you sit on it. You can call me and tell me all your wackiest daydreams and I'll tell you if they're dumb or not. That's what your Mom does with me. We can admire your Dad's hair and biting wit together. When your parents start to make out, we can roll our eyes and make gagging noises and yell "Get a room!". Don't come to me with a bad attitude that you want me to support, because negativity isn't my thing. I will always listen and do my best to turn it around though, and spin your bad times into something that helps you. I'm never going to judge you, but I'm going to tell you if I think you're wrong. I'm always going to encourage you in whatever you're into unless it's "doing nothing". I'm going to try to make you smile and laugh every single chance I get. As your Mom and Dad both know and make use of, I'm just always going to be there. Whatever you need, we'll tackle it (and most likely make jokes about it) together.
Adam Young, you are a very lucky little boy and I am so so so glad you are finally here. As I also tell your cousin, I love you from the top of your head to the tip of your toes. I apologize in advance for all the sobbing the first time I hold you.
Eat you up I love you so xoxox
Me
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