By the time Colston came into the world, we weren’t just surviving, we were certain. Certain that our marriage could weather storms. Certain that we were growing, not breaking. Certain that Love, when fought for, can be rebuilt even stronger. His arrival didn’t just complete our family, it confirmed it.
He was our first full-term baby, and he made an entrance. Not so much born as “delivered with force”, but like he’d already been through something and wanted out. He didn’t look like a newborn; he was solid, big, strong – a baby who looked like he skipped the fragile stage altogether.
And in the womb? He was chaos and mayhem- like a UFC fighter with jumpkicks, elbows, and punches. He never let me rest, as if he moved with purpose like he was already in training to survive a house full of brothers. And now that he’s here? Not much has changed. He’s still wild. Still loud. Still the smallest one with the biggest energy.
Colston doesn’t let anyone, especially his brothers, get the best of him. He’ll push back, fight hard, and then wrap his arms around you like a teddy bear while gruffly growling (yes, this boy growls), “I’m sorry and I love you”. He’s got this explosive temper that comes out of nowhere, but will eventually fizzle once you offer him food or give him a hug. He’s tough, but incredibly affectionate. He wants to be held, snuggled, and loved- and he gives back tenfold.
He’s curious and yet shy. It’s a beautiful contrast. Colston will shine bright in familiar spaces, but when the crowd is too big or the attention is too direct, he pulls back. He’s a blend of boldness and softness, of volume and vulnerability, of fight and feel. He has rough edges, sure, but wrapped around a heart that loves fiercely, protects loyally, and cuddles like no one else.
Colston didn’t just arrive; he marked a turning point. He is our firecracker, our laughter, our glue, our joy. And with his birth, our full-circle moment, we finally felt whole.
Mai Household Mayhem 