Birth Of My Son

I like Samuel

"Sam-well," I explained to my white family how to pronounce his name.

I found myself pregnant fairly quicker after Marína gave her descent. She was born in late 2032, and now she was 17 months old (a year and a half). Sweet Ánder was over two, and almost three. He'd been running around with his dad outside and he was becoming, well, a toddler. He threw tantrums every so often, but he knew better than that. He'd also, somehow, been completely potty-trained after a week with my dad. I say it's shocking, but he did the same with my dogs within days of having them.

Daniel and I discussed the possibility of having another kid after my postpartum depression went away, and "we said the time is right". I think he was secretly praying to God, because shortly thereafter I got pregnant.

Though, it was tough. I was unable to go to the sets in which my films were being, well, filmed, so I couldn't see the magic happen. I'd go wherever Daniel would be in order to watch his soccer, but once when he got a red card during a game, I knew he was secretly grateful because it meant he could spend time with us.

He'd been extra cautious this pregnancy, and I knew exactly why... it was because he was scared of missing the birth. Therefore, I didn't blame him. But I did notice the way he had been changing lately, and I realized why...

He would be having more sons than daughters.

He was the youngest of 5 kids, and he had 4 older sisters. Even when we were kids, he explained that he wanted to have just daughters. Of course, I wasn't in control of that.

We were both 29 and I would be 30 later this year, and in all honesty, I'd wished I waited a few more years to have kids. I had fun in my 20s, but I did miss not having the responsibility of a little kid. 

But, I spent my 20s good. I'd won Oscars for my films and traveled the world with Pollito, so I had fulfilled a lot of my dreams. On top of that, I was just happy to be alive.

Right now, I was at a soccer match for Daniel. I didn't know what was happening, and I didn't care so much to ask, because it would be awkward as shit to ask people about soccer when I was married to a player.

We has just 5 minutes left in the game, and we were winning by 1-0. Daniel was always paying close attention to the game, so I would be proud when he blocked a goal. That, and it was his job. He was paid the most for a damn reason.

Ánder and Marína were cheering on their dad, but she was confused, to say the least. She was excited and happy when her brother would be, but on the other hand, she was like me and didn't like things to be loud. So, she wore big blocky headphones.

"Ánder, buddy, come here," I said as I took out my phone to take a selfie of us three. He scurried towards me as I situated Marína on my lap. I couldn't get her to smile, but it was easy to get Ánder to, since he already was. He loved soccer more than his dad, sometimes. Unfortunately, he was a Santos Laguna fan, while I liked Las Chivas.

When Daniel first played against Chivas several years ago, I wore a Chivas jersey. They ended up tying, which I myself thought was the best option because I didn't want to see Daniel lose, and I didn't want to see the only team I cared for losing.

I snapped the photo of my two kids, and watched as Daniel watched the ball close.

"Go, Dad-ee!" Ánder, my nearly 3-year-old, cheered. 

"Dad-ee!" his sister chimed in. "Dad-eeyyeeee!" she drew out. I bounced her on my leg as I watched Daniel.

One player on the opposing team shot the ball towards the goalie net with just seconds left. Daniel dove for it, and the ball hit his face instantly, saving the shot. The crowd cheered, and Daniel did too. But as he stood up, I saw just how bloody his nose was.