dear pratt.

my dearest pratt,

this weekend you turned six.

six years old.  i don't even know.  the high was 74 degrees.  and that's perfect.  because the day i took you home from the hospital...the high was about the same.  it was a beautiful, cool, sunny and windy day.

i've told you many a time that i didn't know how to be a mom.

but six years later, i know exactly how it's done.

it's done with love.
and forgiveness.
with laughter.
and tears.

it's done with patience.
courage.
compassion.

it takes sleep.
and worry.

it takes depression medicine.
and wine.
counting to ten.
counting to twenty.
and when that doesn't work...it takes crying in the shower.
and sonic.  lots of sonic.

it takes friends.
and a daddy.
and grandparents.
and a village to bring food.  to babysit.  to discipline.

the past five years have been the best of my life.  hands down.

nothing compares to this life i have with you and daddy and max.  there are times when i just start crying counting my blessings.  not because i'm sad, but because i am overwhelmed with gladness.  because i am overwhelmed with blessing.  because i, IN NO WAY, deserve what i have here.

i am humbled by our friends.  i am humbled by those that love us.

i need you to know that they love you.  and i worry that you're so much like me...that there will be a time in your life where you question what you're here for.  if you're like me, you will question your worth.  you will question your thoughts.  and your heart.  and your goodness.

let me say something here.

there is no reason to question that.  

i'm not just saying that because i'm your mom.  i'm saying it because i'm smart.  and i know you.  and i know who you are.  i know that no one is perfect.  but i know that you try.  i know that you love with all your heart.

i know that your eyes water when you see or hear something sad.  or something emotionally moving.  you have done this since you were 4.  your emotional intelligence is remarkable.

and because of this, you will love more deeply than the average bear.  you'll also hurt way worse.  you'll cry more.  but you'll laugh more too.  your highs will be higher...and your lows will be lower.  but in the end, when you're 100, i think you'll look back and smile.  and realize that you wouldn't have had it any other way.

i cannot imagine having lived the last three years of life without you.  there is a reason God sent you first.

you are the best big brother i know.  i wish i could be as good of a big sister to sugar as you are to max.  you're that good.

three nights before your birthday, as i was putting you to bed, you called me back over to you.  and you said,

hey momma.  i know you worry about max.  but i want you to know that i take care of him.  like last night at church, i told everyone that he was only 3.  and that he couldn't say words like i could.  so they had to be careful with him.  and they had to be patient.  and that if he got hurt, he would just cry and not be able to tell them what was wrong.  but they could come get me and i could fix it.  

a lot of this cannot be taught.  it's innate, i think.  sure.  we've worked on being kind.  and helpful.  and brave.  we've talked about max and his apraxia.  and we've discussed what a big brother does.  what a friend does.

but your little heart...your little mind takes it so much further.

you are a special child, my pratt.

there was poet by the name of khalil gibran and he said this about children....

your children are not your children. they are the sons and daughters of life's longing for itself.  they come through you but not from you, and though they are with you yet they belong not to you.  

you may give them your love but not your thoughts, for they have their own thoughts.  you may house their bodies but not their souls, for their souls dwell in the house of tomorrow, which you cannot visit, not even in your dreams.  

you may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.  for life goes not backward nor tarries with yesterday.  

all that to say that i want you to be sure of yourself. i want you to be happy.  and kind.  i want you to be patient.

i want you to be better than me and daddy.  i want you to do more.  love more.  wish more.  travel more.  laugh more.  hug more.

all things more.

do not try to be like me.  or daddy.  or anyone else for that matter.
just find you.  know who you are.  know what you like.  what you don't like.
know what makes you happy.  and what keeps you from that.
know you.

i'm not totally sure how to do this.  but i know it involves an insane amount of patience.  and courage.  and a quietness about yourself.  about your soul.  about your life.

and prayer.
pray.  and thank God for your blessings.  and for your trials.  because it is through those, that you will really know who you are.

and my sweet boy, you are off to a great start.

i love you, my little 6 year old.

xoxo,
momma.

show and tell.

often i hear what other people are worried about and i can't help but roll my eyes.

i'm ashamed i do this.  but i do it so often you wouldn't realize i was ashamed of it.  you'd think i would spend more time working on it.  but it's so hard.

because my main worry is max.

he's been my main worry for over a year now.

i worry about the normal stuff too.  like pratt.  and clint.  and my parents.  i worry about my sister.  i worry about life.

but mostly, i worry about max.  and about him talking.  or him not talking.

while he's making strides...huge strides, he still doesn't sound like the "typical" 3 year old.

and so this morning, when i got this email...i fell into tears.

a few things.

one.  sure i'll send the pictures.  and i'll work on everything with max.  i'll even attach a post it with the names of everyone so that his teachers will know what he's saying.

two. i KNOW without a shadow of a doubt that he is in the BEST place for him.  i know that his teachers will encourage him to talk.  i know that his classmates won't wonder why he can't speak as clearly as they can.  i know that not a single child will make fun of him.

and three.  i know that it WILL be fun for him.  he actually will be so proud to stand and show his pictures.

but until you've stood in my shoes...until you've been the mom with the child that doesn't "look like/sound like/act like" the other "typical" kids, you don't understand.

and so i get it.

but let me beg something of you.

teach your children to be kind.

my second worry is about when max starts kindergarten.  i don't worry about pratt making new friends. i don't worry about him in the cafeteria.  i don't worry about him on the playground.  he is capable and sure of himself and he is just fine.  will he eventually have his feelings hurt?  YES.  but pratt fits in well with other kids.  he looks like, sounds like, acts like the majority of the children he's in school with.

i hate apraxia.  i hate that we have to deal with this.  i hate this is what my baby has been given.  i would do anything to take it on for him.  i would give anything to fight this battle for him.

but i can't.  and it's such a helpless, lousy feeling.

i know there will be a day when max gets up with a picture...and can tell story after story about his life. and his family and his pets.  but that day isn't monday, september 8th.

i pray it is soon.  and i pray he remains happy and carefree.

say a prayer for all those dealing with their own issues this morning.

and recognize that maybe your own problems are minuscule compared to others.
i'll do the same.

update to this post, 12:55 pm.

i just received this text from max's therapist, ashley.

there are just no words.  if you zoom in, you can see that she's even included pictures as to how his mouth should look when he says the words.

i just, i don't know.  ashley will never know what this means to me.  she will only understand how i feel when she has children of her own one day.  i'll be there to shower her with gifts and to hold the baby while she sleeps and showers and shops and anything else she might want to do.

because she loves my max.  and as my friend marietta said, "she's got a good heart.  she's not only doing what she is supposed to, but she cares.".

she absolutely does.

so ashley, i love you.  and i'm so blessed to call you our friend and our speech therapist.