To My Son, on the Eve of Your Bone Marrow Transplant

To my son, on the eve of your bone marrow transplant:

The first time you were born was a Thursday, on a day in late October, just two blocks from where we lived. Although it was a typical birth, nothing feels typical when you are a new mom. Dad and I marveled at the miracle that was you: how tiny and delicate your fingers were and how much a newborn baby boy could look like his father.  

We will celebrate your second birthday on a Wednesday, ten and a half years after the first one and many miles from our home. While there will be plenty of presents for you from our family and friends, the most precious gift you receive will be from a young woman who doesn’t even know you. Her bone marrow is being flown here from Europe as I write, and if it carries the generosity of spirit that she has exemplified, we know you will be infused with the very finest of cells.

The transplant world considers this another birthday for you. We’ve decided to call it your “bonus birthday” since we feel like it is something extra for which Dad and I are exceedingly grateful. Plus, it has the word “bone” in it. (Bone marrow? Get it?). Considering you are related to me, I’m sure that having another birthday doesn’t bother you a bit. More cake, cards, presents, and celebrating….what could be bad? But here’s why this “bonus” birthday is so meaningful to your old mom.

The first time you were born, we didn’t know you. Of course, we loved you the minute we learned you were coming, celebrating over vegetable dumplings and udon noodles at our favorite Chinese restaurant. And then when you arrived that autumn day, we cried and celebrated you with over-sized helium animal balloons and a small stuffed blue monkey, subsequently named “Blue Monkey,” who still lies by your side, even this very night. 

But back then, we didn’t know who you would grow to be: how you would obsess about roller coasters, or persuade the producers of Hamilton to send you house seats by writing a heartfelt letter about your love for the show. We didn’t know that you would laugh uproariously at every Simpsons episode or decide that Chicago is your favorite city. We didn’t know that you could bring an entire community together, inspiring even squads of Israeli soldiers to root for you to “power through” a difficult time.  

Now, we know you. And it’s true when they say that you love your child more with each passing day. So even though we loved you as much as we possibly could on October 23, 2008, we love you ten and a half years more now.  

Dad and I feel lucky that we get this bonus opportunity not only to imagine the great possibilities that lie ahead for you but to appreciate how far you’ve come in ten and a half years. While we are pretty sure that you won’t be a world-class chef (unless it is for an egg-free restaurant), we believe now, as we did on that miraculous fall day in 2008, that the world is your oyster, your kingdom, your Fortnite playground. We imagine that the world will continue to open its arms to you, to invite you to experience all that is possible because you have shown that you are the kind of person who seeks out the fun and adventure in life, who faces adversity with grit and determination. 

Whether it is riding roller coasters in Japan or digging through caves in Israel or facing chemotherapy with a fierce spirit, we know that you will continue to embrace your life with a perspective and appreciation that has been hard-earned. You inspire us with who you already are and who you may become.

Above all else, we wish for you a very long life of good health and for the kind of happiness that you bring upon yourself, as you have done so beautifully these past ten years.

Happy bonus birthday, sweetheart.  

Love, Mom