ODE TO KIMI

The meaning of his name is apt , “Complete and Perfect” and he is the embodiment of those two concepts for Sha and me. With his coming, he completed our family, and how he came to us was nothing short of perfection.

I couldn’t imagine not being a mother. I longed for it, for that bond that shapes you from the inside out. As a child, I imagined I'd have a daughter one day, someone who might mirror my own journey. But life, in all its mystery, had other plans. And what a gift that turned out to be. I’m now outnumbered by males in our home, and honestly? I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Sons challenge us, teach us, and stretch our hearts in unexpected directions. They arrive sometimes with quiet wonder, sometimes with unstoppable energy and from that moment on, nothing is ever quite the same.

To raise a son is to witness strength and tenderness unfold side by side. It's to hold a tiny hand today that will one day hold others with care and purpose. We watch their mastery and mystery from beside them, always within arm’s reach, but never imposing.

Kimi and I travelled the world together, but nowhere was his care more beautifully evident than on our Umrah trip in 2011. He shielded my sister and me, guiding us gently but firmly through the throngs of people until we stood right at the Kaaba. In that moment - sacred and still amidst the chaos- he made space for us to connect with the Divine. It felt like eternity within the blink of an eye.

It’s these moments, and others like the toddler running around bare-bottomed, gleefully chasing his mum with the hosepipe, giggling madly and refusing to give up that I carry in my heart. That boy is still in there, even as I stand in awe of the man he's becoming.

And sometimes, a son doesn’t arrive the way you expect.

He arrives exactly the way he’s meant to.

Not born of my body, but born of my longing, my faith, and my open arms.

You were five days old when we first saw you. Five days old, with curious, wise eyes and a tight grip on nervous fingers. And when you were placed in my arms, I knew, I would never let you go.

That is how you came to us, Kimi.

You were ten days old when we brought you home. That day, our house overflowed with people, friends and family who came to welcome you, pray for you, and celebrate the joy you brought with you. Every year, we celebrate that homecoming just as joyfully as we celebrate your birthday. The important ones know we do Italian for a very special reason!

Ten days old, and already ours in every way that mattered.

After years of infertility treatments, of holding hope like something fragile and flickering, your arrival was both a healing and a homecoming. You were the answer to a question I had carried for so long, I wasn’t sure I’d ever hear it answered.

From the moment we held you, it felt like the universe had conspired to bring you to us. Not by chance, but by a deeper kind of design, the kind only revealed to those who’ve walked through longing and found themselves, finally, on the other side.

You were a busy baby, and oh so entertaining! And as the years passed, your thoughtfulness emerged more and more. You’ve always seen the world a little differently, an old soul in a young frame. You notice what others miss. You listen when others talk over. You feel deeply when others look away.

In our quiet times, we shared moments that didn’t need words. And at other times, we’d laugh endlessly over our shared love of food. And now, I find myself turning to you for advice because you listen attentively, without judgment, and your insight is steady and wise.

And now, as you stand on the brink of a new chapter, Bali on the horizon, the world wide open before you... I watch with pride and quiet awe. You are spreading your wings, stepping boldly into your own life, your own rhythm, your own purpose. I see you seeking not just adventure but meaning too. You are crafting a life that feels true to who you are, not what others expect. And though you are venturing far, know this: home isn’t a place you leave, it’s a place that lives in you. Wherever you go, whatever you build, you carry us with you. And we, always, hold space for your return, not because you’re ever lost, but because you’ll always belong.

And we will always come to where you are, for you are ours and we are yours...our family, designed by the Divine.