dear max.

my dear sweet baby max,

today at therapy, i noticed a mother i haven't seen before.

she was blonde.  and tall.  thin.  had a wonderful leather messenger bag.  was on a really thin ipad.  had some noonday jewelry.  a loose fitting shirt that looked designer-ish.

is it crazy that i noticed all that?  maybe.  but she just seemed so put together.  i think i notice that stuff because i always wish i looked that way.

no one will ever look at me and think, "wow. she's so put together."

they might think, "wow.  she is totally frazzled." or "oh, bless her.  look.  she's still in workout clothes at 2 pm."

or even, "oh look.  she has toilet paper coming out of her pants."

because yes, THAT has happened.  when i was 9 months pregnant.  it happened 2 days before i went into labor with pratt.  in front of MEN.  toilet paper i had USED.  toilet paper with PEE on it.

anyway.

okay.  about the time i sat down, a little boy started walking towards us in the gym.  i could see that he had braces on his little ankles.  he wasn't smiling.  he wasn't really focused on anything at all.  he was just looking ahead.  sort of whining.

his physical therapist opened the gym open door, and he attempted to step up over the metal part where the door latches.  he had trouble.  much like you have trouble.  it's your balance.  lifting one foot is hard when you feel like you'll fall over.

it took him a solid minute to get both feet over.

in these 60 seconds, i could see the face of his mom.

she was pained.
because she knew it was hard for him.
and she wanted more than anything for him to do it quickly.  and swiftly.
she worried he would fall.

mostly, she worried he might have trouble like this forever.

how do i know?
because i live it.

because i live that every.single.day of my life with you.

i hear other kids your age chatting away.  while my little boy is silent.
i see other kids running and skipping and hopping.  while my little boy stumbles.

as this mom walked out with her son, holding him, he was silent.  he made a gurgling sound to which she replied, "yes.  tree.  isn't that a pretty tree?"

and all i could think about was how i've been there.  tried to assume something you were thinking or saying or meaning.

tried to make a small gurgle into something meaningful.
tried to make something so small into something big.
make it a milestone.

make IT make ME feel better.

and that's when it hit me.  like a ton of bricks in the waiting room of therapy.

THIS ISN'T ABOUT ME.

this is about you.
this is about kids who are depending on us to give them what they need to succeed.

and while i have this tendency to push you...to hurry you over bumps in the road (both literal and figurative).  while i have this urge to rush you, you don't have that in you.

i'm reminded that there is something so good in allowing these children their own success on their own timeline.  not rushing things.  allowing them to move at their own pace.

may i always remember to stop and smell the roses.  to stop and admire a beetle on the ground.  to stop and instead of just walking over the speed bump...may i take it in as my own...and walk on top of it until i get to my destination.

max, thank you for teaching your old momma so many new things.  you are the light of my life.  you are the reason i worry. and the reason i pray.  you are the reason i am able to love so deeply.

i look forward to seeing you grow.  and talk.  and run.  and play.  and make friends.

xoxo,
momma.