I don't think you believe me

Kyle, I don't think you believe me when I tell you that you were my easiest baby. Even in birth you seemed to be unwilling to trouble. In that sunny hospital room, on a morning in March, I listened to the swoosh of your heart beat, noticing it get more and more faint, as it seemed to travel downward, and I could actually see you wiggling yourself away from the device, and underneath the monitor belt. You were working your own way into this world.  The doctor recorded minutes pushing: zero.

In your Father's Blessing you were gifted with a light that would be a joy to your brothers. And you were the first thing to stir them from their two and three-year old worlds of egocentricity.

  When we brought you home they surrounded you and brought forth offerings of Hot Wheels and Thomas the Trains.  They couldn't wait to include you.

  

You were an easy tempered, sweet natured infant, and remained surprisingly so as you grew. A natural third child, you were the one to endear and entertain with your whimsical humor,

  and your affectionate spirit.

 You have grown in so many ways since we left China, two years ago.

Even though you never loved transitions, you have risen to the occasion and become the strong arms that your little sister reaches for, and I am so proud of you.

I hope you had a fun birthday.