I loved my son for each of the 23 million seconds we had with him
You were born 16 days ago, my perfect little boy with radiant skin and a soft fuzz of brown hair. You came into this world on a Sunday evening, and when they placed you in my arms, I almost stopped breathing with wonder.
You’re the oldest grandchild for my parents, and you arrived into a family that’s been waiting for you from the moment I stood under the chuppah.
The funny thing is that five weeks before you were born, Bubby had a baby girl, my youngest sister. For reasons I still don’t fully remember — maybe her breathing was a little fast, maybe they were just being cautious — the doctors sent her to the NICU for observation. Two days later, she was perfectly fine and ready to go home. I went with one of your older aunts to pick Bubby up from the hospital. We were watching Bubby sign papers, ready to leave, when a nurse stopped us.
“Before you go,” she said to Bubby, “you need to do the infant resuscitation training.”
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