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This is your 8, sweet Ash

Asher at 8!

I always think of how lucky we are to have you. You are a rainbow baby. I didn’t know what that was when we found out we were pregnant, but now that I do, I also find that you are always accompanied with storms and followed by calm. My entire entire first trimester was up in the air. I had H1N1 pneumonia during Chicago’s blizzard and your tiny developing self was built upon my ingestion of weeks of steroids, antibiotics, bronchodilators, low oxygen and high CO2. But you stuck around. You never stopped moving. We joked you would be born with Popeye muscles because of all the meds. 

You were nameless until the last two weeks or so of my pregnancy. Asher came to me in a moment and blur and I said it out loud and your dad also loved it. It means happy, fortunate, blessed… And you have given us all of these things.

You were a beautiful baby and are now a beautiful child. There are moments when you are so challenging of my patience but mostly moments when you’re bringing sheer joy to everyone’s lives. I wonder what life would be without you and I’m left with the adjectives bored, slow and grey. 

I am constantly asked if I wanted a girl. Nope, just three. Our three happens to be three boys, and you fit in perfectly like the last piece of the puzzle that took more than five years to find.

Happy 8 years earth-side, darling boy. 

Your favorite author is Dav Pilkey and we reread all the Captain Underpants & Dog Man books endlessly. You hate spelling (which is ironic since you love reading). You play Legos endlessly, rarely making the kit, but your own creations instead. Your bedroom floor is a landmine for our feet. Your favorite foods are pizza and Hershey bars, and you’ll always help cook. You love playing outside, but hate hikes with a passion. You love ice cream and hate having your picture taken. For about the seventh year in a row, you still don’t understand why you can’t do everything like your brothers. 

You give The. Best. Hugs. XO always

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