Dear Jeffrey Peter Junior,
I look at you and I see a happy baby.
I look at you and I see God’s love for me.
I look at you and I know that you are the blessing that your Dad and I prayed even with all the challenges which came with bearing, delivering, and taking care of you.
I get so emotional on the day you turned one year old because my love, getting here, right at this very moment where I stare at your chubby cheeks, took so much tears and sacrifice.
The sacrifice was not all mine.
Your Dad, the very person who told me that I am pregnant with you even before modern technology told us that you are in my belly, toiled long and hard to put food on the table, to make sure that your older siblings with dinosaur appetites get to have apples and bananas, to ensure that Nanay is entertained especially when she is not happy because she is exhausted.
JJ, you are perhaps the most travelled fetus.
You were made in China.
But contrary to popular belief that anything made in the Middle Kingdom is substandard, you, my dear Pedro, is perfect. You are a living example of how God has blessed Daddy and Nanay.
Shortly after the doctor announced that tiny you is growing inside me, Daddy and I left the Philippines and traveled to Singapore, Thailand, Vietnam, and Malaysia. You have parents who love to travel.
Then we decided that it is best for you to be born in the US, where Daddy was also born.
We went home to China and from there, with Nanay’s very big belly and the twins in tow, Daddy moved the whole family to Montana where your Uncle Joe and Aunt Sheryl lived.
In Montana, we were surrounded with so much green. Nature’s bounty is in that state. While pregnant with you, Daddy picked me up from a short course on blogging and on the way home, we almost hit a deer.
It was majestic.
The deer paused, looked at us, and ran off to the dark.
When you were born, Daddy was there. But the next three days, it was just you and me with occasional visits from the nurses and the doctors.
I did not have that moment with your siblings because there were many hands who offered help.
I cannot say it was easy.
But I cherish those moments.
I remember staring at you and feeling this overwhelming love for a person who caused me back pains, shortness of breaths, nausea. . . How could that be?
I had your brother and your sister before you so I thought that experience should not be new to me but there you were JJ . . . there you were . . . and I could not help myself from falling in love again.
When you were around seven months old, the whole family visited Canada and in the three-hour drive from Montana to the Canadian border, you were mostly quiet. You are the easiest baby to take care of (Nicholas and Antoinette, if you read this, I love you but you were crazy babies!); that’s why I could not believe you came from a difficult, impatient, whiny woman. In case you wonder, the woman is me. Your mother.
If you are 16 by the time you read this, then you should have known I hate big parties. Nanay wants small gatherings attended by people who really know our story, who knows the family by heart and not by name.
Your first birthday celebration had pancit and cake. Your brother Nicholas blew your candle. Your sister Antoinette threw a tantrum as you sat on my lap and grabbed the cake and shove some pieces in your hungry mouth with six baby teeth. Your Ate Joy clapped her hands when you squealed in delight.
I love how you smiled when your Dad called your name: “Jeffrey.”
I love how your eyes twinkled when the twins chanted: “JJ, JJ, JJ!”
I love how you raised your arms to hug me when I said: “My Jeff Pedro.”
Happy first birthday, Jeffrey Peter Junior.
You are destined for greatness, my son.
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