The Best Christmas Present Ever

This is a rewrite of a story that I wrote 15 years ago.

He couldn't have fit in one of these!

When I was growing up, Santa didn’t show up in the middle of the night while we were sleeping. In our house, he came on Christmas Eve — just around sunset.

Every year, my parents piled us into the van to look at Christmas lights — especially in the fancy neighborhoods where every rooftop sparkled like something out of a movie.

And every year, without fail, we’d return home to find the stockings stuffed and gifts from Santa waiting for us.

That tradition stuck with me. I kept it going with my own kids — even when they knew Santa wasn’t real. During my Navy years, I had to improvise. Sometimes Santa came in the afternoon if I had to work that evening. But he always came. Always on Christmas Eve.

By December 2007, the stockings were filled and the gifts were hidden in the closet. We were ready for lights, cocoa, and tradition.

But that Christmas Eve was different. That year, I was expecting my first grandchild.

To say I was excited is putting it mildly. My mother had eight grandchildren by the time she turned 50. I was turning 50 too — and I was more than ready to join the Nana club.

We already knew it was a boy, and his presents were wrapped and waiting under the tree. He wasn’t due until January — but babies have their own timing.

But that Christmas Eve, labor began.

So much for Santa that night — and no one minded one bit.

Labor had always been easy for me. Just over five hours with my first, and less than 45 minutes in the hospital. My mother had it easy too. Naturally, I assumed the streak would continue.

Not so.

Hours passed. There was pain, but no progress. Even after the hospital gave medication to help things along, nothing changed. Her body just refused to cooperate — a normal thing for a first birth, but still frustrating to watch.

Finally — finally — she started to dilate.

And at 9:00 a.m. on Christmas morning, Adrian Michael Becerra made his quiet, perfect entrance into the world.

Adrian is seventeen now — gentle, thoughtful, and kind. The kind of young man who notices when people are hurting — and leans in. He listens. He cares.

And no matter how many Christmases come and go, he will always be — without question — the best Christmas present I’ve ever received.