Page 149 of Denim & Diamonds

“Your mom makes you eat your vegetables. My mom brings me cake from New York and lets me eat it before dinner.”

February’s mouth dropped open. “He just snitched on me.”

Patrick continued. “Your mom makes pancakes. My mom accidentally burns them into the face of Jesus.”

“That really happened,” February whispered. Her shoulders shook with laughter.

He sighed. “My mom might be a little different than your mom. But she loves me just the same.” He looked up for a moment. “I chose my mom over Spider-Man because my mom choseme. And that’s why my mom is my hero.” He nodded. “Thank you.” Patrick rushed off to exit the stage.

Tears filled her eyes. “I can’t believe I almost missed that.”

Our little boy found us in the audience and hugged February before returning to his seat at the front of the room.

She wiped her eyes. “You think he meant it, or is he just kissing up because tomorrow is his birthday?”

“If that’s true, he learned the power of schmoozing fromyou.”

***

The following day, we celebrated Patrick’s sixth birthday with a party at the cabin. The house had been filled with family and friends all day, along with a giant inflatable bouncy house out back. It was an interesting sight when Oak decided to join the kids on that thing.

After everyone finally left, I decided to do something I’d never done before: write Nina a letter. Patrick’s birth mother had asked that I write her each year on his birthday, but up until now, I hadn’t honored that request. She didn’t deserve it, and I’d decided if she wanted to know about him, she should reach out to us.

But this year, it felt right, almost therapeutic.

After Patrick went to bed, February took a shower while Oak sat by my feet. I took out my laptop and typed.

Dear Nina,

I’m sure you’re surprised to hear from me when I haven’t written you these past six years. Maybe it’s taken me this long to put aside my pride and give you an update on the beautiful boy you gave birth to.

If you’ve ever worried you left him motherless, you should know that hasn’t been the case. I was fully prepared to raise him as a single father, but I met the love of my life shortly before I found out you were pregnant. She understood from the beginning that Patrick and I were a two-for-one deal and has helped raise him as her own.

February was adamant that Patrick know the truth about our family as soon as he’d be ableto understand. When he was about three, we sat him down and explained as best we could that he didn’t grow in his mom’s belly. We let him know that this didn’t mean she was any less his mom. His reaction was to tell us he wanted to go to McDonald’s Playland. Not sure if he fully gets it even now, but he knows February chose to be his mom and that giving birth doesn’t make you a mother.

He has the best of both of our personalities. He loves building things like me and is smart and witty like her. You’d be proud of the boy he’s become. He is safe, happy, and loved.

Thank you for giving birth to the best thing that ever happened to me. In retrospect, he was the best surprise of my life. It’s matched only by the surprise I got this morning—that he’s about to become a big brother. Something neither my wife nor I expected. Not entirely sure how we’ll manage that yet, but if there’s one thing I’ve learned: where there’s a will, there’s a way. I no longer think anything is impossible nor subscribe to self-limiting beliefs.

You left town because you wanted something bigger. I hope you found your peace. My own “something bigger” came without me having to go anywhere at all. She wears six-inch heels and likesan extra dry martini, shaken not stirred, with a lemon twist, dash of orange bitters, and two bleu cheese olives.

Take care,

Brock