seasons.

last night i was reminded of max's first 4 months of life.

and in case you don't know...and you're new to this blog.  um.  max cried (read: screamed) for 125 days.  from day 21 to day whatever 21 plus 125 is.

i'm serious.

ask anyone.

screamed his dang face off.

that's what he did last night too.

started at midnight.  12:05 is what my fitbit says.  i thought he screamed for me because he needed to go potty.  that sometimes happens.

but no.  i went in to him and he was screaming.  crying.

clint and i both went over everything we knew.

is it your bottom?  do you need to potty?  is it your belly?  your throat?  nose?  head?  is it growing pains?  do your legs hurt?

we never got an answer.  but we could hear he was struggling to breathe.

he can't blow his nose.  never has been able to. it's either a palate issue.  or a hypotonia issue. i'm not sure which.

we used a warm cloth to wash off what we could.  but that just made him mad.  he finally fell asleep on me.  only to wake 30 minutes later screaming louder than before.

he did this all night.  about every 30 minutes he would scream out.  i assume because he woke and realized he couldn't breath.

because of the apraxia...and because he can't fully express himself to where we can understand, i still am not sure that's all that's wrong.

but we've used the nose frida three times.  and i've rubbed all kinds of oils on him.  and i'm thinking it's allergies and a lack of being able to blow his nose.

as frustrating as this is, i'm reminded that he's healthy.  and here.  in my arms.  and that no matter how many times i have to suction his nose, it's okay.  because that's what i'm supposed to do.

we had four 7th grade boys over the weekend.  for a confirmation weekend with our church.  as we were doing a devotion with them, we started talking about spiritual gifts.

i had no idea what my spiritual gift was when i was in the 7th grade.  i don't think i knew until now.  maybe this past year.

it wasn't until recently i knew a lot about myself.

i know what i like.  what i don't like.  i know what i'll stand for and fight for.  i know what hurts me.  and what makes me happy.

i know that God made me to be a mom.  i know that God gave us apraxia so that we could go out and make the journey easier for someone else.

i know that one day, my max will stand before a big group and he will speak.  and it will be clear.  and precise.  and well thought out.

i know that on that day, i'll be the proudest i have ever been.  i hope that someone has a video camera because i'll be a crying, blubbering idiot and won't see anything.

with each day that i'm handed something that reminds me of the apraxia, or the palate issues, or the hypotonia...i remember that it's gonna be okay.  and that i will get through it.  and that he will prevail.

i know that this won't be our biggest obstacle in life.  i know that something will be larger and harder and worse.  and i know that i will be reminded of this season.  when my 3, almost 4 year old couldn't tell me what was wrong.

if you're here too, if you're feeling lost or frustrated or worried about something you can't control, you're not alone.  i try so hard to not worry about things i have no control over.  it's hard.  but it's necessary.

life is good.  even in these seasons.  especially in these seasons.  because this is when we grow.  and don't we all want to grow?

xxoo.

dear pratt.

my dearest pratt,

in less than five months, you'll turn seven years old.

SEVEN.

that's three away from TEN.  that's double digits.  that will be on a thursday.  and we will need to not be at school that day.  because that day, i'll need ALL THE OILS rubbed on me.  i don't know how i'll get through it.

heck.  i don't know how i'll get through this upcoming day of birth.

seven.

how did it even happen?

i realized that i haven't written you in a while.  and so i wanted to fix it.

i think a simple story can tell so much.  and so i'll share a recent one.  you know, to sort of capture this time. this time in history.  to capture what is going on here.

you left friday to go spend the night with someone.  when max saw your bag packed, he immediately knew what was happening.

so he ran upstairs, pulled out his trunki and packed his own bag.

he filled it with the following: Blue.  pajama pants.  a batman shirt.  ONE flip flop.  ONE cowboy boot.  his toothbrush.  your cologne.  a washcloth. and his blanket.

he didn't even get it closed properly before he was hurling it down the stairs.

by the time he had gotten to the garage, you had left.

he started hollering your name.  as loud as his little voice would get.

but you were gone.

and he knew it.  and he completely and totally broke down.  instead of sitting on the ground, he plopped down on that cracked open trunki and cried.  huge, wet crocodile tears.

i ran to him and he kept saying, "i go att, mom.  i go att."

it was heartbreaking.

i carried him (and his random assortment trunki) inside.  and we sat and rocked in daddy's chair for a long, long time.  his head rested on my shoulder and he cried.

i know that you won't understand this until you have children of your own, but pratt..max's reaction to you leaving is SUCH a huge testament to your love for him.

i struggle so often with how much i put on you.  sunday on the way to cole's birthday i asked you to watch out for him.  to protect him.  and you said, "you don't have to tell me, mom.  you know i always just do that. i won't let anyone do anything to him.  he's safe with me."

you are patient with him.  you are kind.  you don't treat him any differently.  you understand him.  you know him well.  you love him.

thank you for the brother you are.  thank you for the son you are.

thank you for loving me.  and for always telling me.  thank you for letting me hold your hand in public.  thank you for giving me kisses every, single night before bed.

thank you for trusting me with your feelings. and your fears.  and your good days and bad.

i love you more than you love cereal.

xxoo.
momma.

words.

i like to go to sleep before clint does.

there is comfort in that for me.  i like knowing he's there.  i like watching him read as my eyes drift off to sleep.

i'm not a touchy sleeper...you know, it's not like the movies at my house.  we don't tangle up with each other and fall asleep.  i need space.  i often flip my pillow for the cool side. i like being on my tummy but then i like to be on my side too.  i need room.  lots of room.  he would say the same thing.

but i also want to be close to him when i sleep.  i want to know he's there.

so often, i'll slip my hand underneath him.  right under his back.  and i'll leave it there.  and fall asleep.

last night, i knew he was getting tired.  so i turned off my mad men episode and rolled over to face him.

and as i looked up, i saw him. with his glasses on.  reading.  i stared at the outline of his face.  his chin.  his beard.  and his soft, kind eyes.  i looked at his hands.  how tan they always are.  when i see his hands, i'm always reminded of the countless ways he uses them daily.  he creates the most beautiful things with them.  that is never lost on me.

about the time i got comfortable, he closed his book.  folded his hands over it.  and closed his eyes.

i didn't say anything.  because i assumed he was praying.  and i didn't want words to interrupt it.

i watched for a few seconds before i closed my own eyes and prayed too.

the blessing that he is to me...it's never lost on me.  i get mad at him.  i get frustrated when he doesn't put the empty milk carton in the recycle bin...but i don't ever stay frustrated with him.

what he is...and what he will always be to me comforts me when i most need it.  he has been my voice of reason for over ten years now.

i know he will always love me.  i know he will always love the boys.  i know he will always work for us to have what we need.  i know he will always put me first.

i saw a post on Facebook today.  with a quote.  the quote was this...

be careful with your words. once they are said, they can only be forgiven...not forgotten.

isn't that so good?

i read it and immediately thought of my husband.   he is lucky enough to see me at my best...and kind enough to see me at my worst.

he gets me at the end of the day.  when i'm tired.  when i have no patience left.  when the smallest of things will set me off.

and yet, yet i know he's not going anywhere.  i know, God willing, we will grow old together.  i know that i'll be sticking my arthritic hand under his back when we are 90 years old.

there was a time when i didn't know i would ever have that confidence.  i have never been anything but myself with him.  i remember a time before him.  i remember trying desperately to be something i wasn't.

it is never worth it.  it's never worth losing yourself...your true self...to make someone else happy.  because in the end, it will all fall apart.

clint, if you're reading this.
i love you.
and i'm so thankful you love me too.