maybe too much.

a friend of mine lost her 16 month old son a week ago tomorrow.

his name was hudson.  her name is sarah.

for as long as i can remember, my father has told me to put myself in someone else's shoes.  and walk around.  see how it feels.

i do that to a fault.

as in, i sometimes do that so well, i am literally stuck for days.  unable to get past something that i'm not even personally dealing with.  i mean, i am.  but i shouldn't be.

in my mind, i can justify this because so many people are without empathy.

and so i think God just saw fit to give me 5 (read 500) times the normal amount.

with that being said, i have NEVER hurt for anyone like i hurt for sarah.

don't hate on me for this...but until you've grown your own child.  until you've carried him in your womb for 40 weeks.  until you've nursed him.  held him.  worried about him.  until you've been up hours on end without any kind of break, you won't understand this.

i'm talking about holding him.  smelling him.  hearing his heartbeat.  feeling him next to your skin.  rubbing the hair off his forehead over and over and over again.  kissing that space where his chin meets his neck.

until you've clipped his fingernails all the while trembling with fear that you'll clip his finger.  until you've jammed a thermometer up his rear so that he will finally poop.  until you've been puked on.  peed on.  screamed at.

you just won't get it.

i can close my eyes and see my boys.

i can see their eyes.  and their noses.

i can see the way max squinches up his face.
i can see pratt smiling with his whole being.

and so tonight, when i saw that sarah said she just wanted to kiss hudson's face one more time...well, that's when i just lost it.

that's when i question everything i know.  that's when i scream at God and beg him to explain why that child had to go.  why would He do this to sarah?  why?  why not take someone else.  anyone else.  take someone who has lived out their life here.  take anyone but not that 16 month old angel.

pratt has this fear of heaven.  it's familiar to me because until about 6 years ago, i felt the same way.

he doesn't want to go.  why?  for the obvious reasons.

this earthly life is incredible for him.  he gets toys.  and presents.  he stays up late.  he loves preschool.  he has good friends.  he eats good food.  he goes to the cinema to watch movies.  he goes and visits his grandparents.  he takes trips.  he is healthy.  he is well taken care of.

he swims in the summer.  he plays in the snow in the winter.  he is living the life.  his life is better than pretty much anyone else i know.

heaven?  well, it's not tangible.  it's not clear what it is.  and he fears...most of all...that it will separate him from his mom and dad.  and that to him, well, that is terrifying.  and not anywhere he wants to be.

i can remember as a kid hearing the end was near and worrying.  not wanting it to happen.

now, now i would give anything for Jesus to return tomorrow.

i don't need to live another day.

why?

because what in the world else is going to happen?!

i mean, the good no longer outweighs the bad.

i know too much.  i've come too far.  i'm too old.  i've become such a cynic.

i have...sort of...seen behind the curtain.  i know what's there. i know the pain that exists.  i know the emptiness.  and the loneliness.  i know the hurt.  and the sorrow.  i know it all.  and i don't like any of it.

i'm struggling to figure out how i do my life here.  does that sound silly?  probably.  but it's true.  how do i stay positive?  how do i act like i'm okay to these two boys who love this life so much?  how do i fake it?  because that's where i'm at right now.  faking it.

i won't always be here.  eventually i'll be in another season.  a season where i am bigger.  and stronger. and i have this answered but something else will seem abstract and unattainable.  and i'll struggle through that.

more than anything else, i'm asking for grace.  because if you see me and i'm crying for no reason...you should know that it's for good reason.  just reason i can't explain.

i prayed that God would allow me to really feel his people.

it worked.
maybe too much.

night.

Last night I went into max's room to put him to bed. I expected to find him playing with his trains. Or with the kitchen stuff. Instead, when I walked in, I saw him standing there, facing the bookshelf. 

I could hear him humming. Like, "hmmm. What to read!!?" 

He grabbed a llama llama book and the went for two puzzles. 

My heart nearly exploded. 

I never ever want to forget that sight. Him. In his footed jammies. Picking out a book. It all goes by way too fast. 

my max.

i'm not sure that i've really posted much about therapy for max.

he goes tuesday, wednesday, thursday and friday.

for an hour.  we drive 30 miles into little rock...drop him off.  i either wait there (if pratt isn't with me) or pratt and i figure out what to do for about 35 minutes.  then we go back and get him.  we pick him up.  drive 30 miles home.  make lunch.  eat.  and then do crafts.  play outside.  etc.

napping for max is no longer happening.  which is okay.  because his behavior isn't affected until around 630...then things start to get ugly.  but oh well.  that's life.

to say he's thriving is an understatement.

max's vocabulary has gone from 2 words...to maybe 50.  maybe more.  and let me be clear.  his words wouldn't sound "right" to you.  but they would rhyme.  and he is making an audible noise.  which is what we are shooting for at this point.

he will literally try any word you throw at him these days.

i know that sounds so weird for some of you parents.

but until you have a child with apraxia...you DO NOT have any idea how quiet a child will be.  you don't know what it means to see a 2 year with low self esteem.  a child that young, who is already turning inward...because he already knows that something is different.  that he sounds different.  that people react differently to him.  ugh.  heartbreaking.

but the good news is that these days, max jibber jabbers all the time in the car.  this morning going to school, every 5th word i said to pratt, max repeated.

pratt and i just can't get enough of it.  it's so wonderful to hear.  any attempt of his to say anything is met with sheer delight from us.  we scream.  we clap.  we tear up.

this weekend, we got notice that max has been approved for tefra.

for those of you who don't know what that is, let me see if i can make sense of it.

it's a secondary insurance for kids with disabilities.  it's through the state of arkansas. (thank you, natural state) it's not income based.  so anyone can get it.  you must apply for it.  and by "apply", i mean fill out like 60 pages about your child.  then 60 more pages online.  then make sure it all arrives like it should.  it goes through a case worker.  then a board that will review it.  and decide if it seems "bad enough".  yes.  that's right.

i was told early on, to be honest about his condition.  and when i read the report from the SLP, i cried.  because his apraxia was labelled as "severe".  that's just never a good word.

so when i opened the letter from the state, and saw, "This is your NEW medicaid card", i cried.  for many reasons.

one.  because it meant that his therapy would be covered (they were out of network for our insurance).  and it's over 100 dollars an hour.  and he gets 4 hours a week.  so you do the math.

and two.  because it really does mean that they thought his condition was "severe".  and that to me is scary.  so damn scary.

but i keep going back to what my friend joanna said to me.  it was this,

i have noticed an improvement in max just the little bit that i am around him.  i know it has to be hard but someday max will be able to use this to reach others.  God has a plan and this setback is part of max's story.  

it's things like this that get me through.  i really do have the best friends.  thank you, joanna.

because not every day is easy.  there are days when someone will say, "how OLD is he?!  two!?  wow.  he's so quiet for two.  what's wrong with him?".  that kind of crap.  and right when i want to punch someone in the face, i remember myself.  pre the diagnosis.

and i remember that when i was younger, i would see kids like max and wonder what their mothers thought.  (hang with me...i'm gonna be honest here.  so don't hate.)

and i would wonder if they wished for things to have been different.

you know.  did they wish that their child looked more like other kids?  did they wish their kid sounded like other kids?  did they lay in bed at night and complain to God about the lot they've been given? about the child's poor health.  etc.

because i assumed they did.

and then i had max.  the kid who doesn't "sound" like the other kids.  and i had him second.  so i KNEW what it meant to have a first child that literally hasn't failed at ANYTHING he's tried.

and in the last few months, i've realized that he is absolutely perfect JUST THE WAY HE IS.  right now.  at this moment.

i'll catch myself looking at him, in the midst of other kids his age, and i'll pray, "thank you God for giving him to me.  thank you for trusting me with this angel.  thank you for sending him down just like he is."  because to me...he is perfect.  he is mine.  he was meant for me.  and i am so thankful.

so the next time you see someone and wonder what to do...don't.  just smile.  and say hi.  and don't question what's wrong.

because to that child's parent...there is nothing in the world wrong.

thanks for coming on this journey with us.  it takes a village, right?

brothers.

today we got home from little rock and Pratt hopped out of the car and ran to the yard. max followed. 

Pratt helped max pull his pants down. 

as Pratt was going to the bathroom, he said, "max, if you stand out here too long, your penis will freeze in the wind. So be careful. And hurry."

so dang funny. and sweet too. 

dear pratt.

dear pratt,

i could write 100 blog posts and never fully capture what you are like right now.

at 5 years and almost 4 months.

unfortunately, until you have your own children, you won't understand what you are.  how you are.  what you mean to me...to your daddy.  but mostly to your little brother.

you are a constant companion.  there are arguments....but they are RARE.  like maybe once a week.  maybe.  you love him.  and cheer for him.  and laugh at him.  you treat him like you would treat anyone else.  you've never felt sorry for him.  you are very aware of his limited vocabulary...but to you, it's not a big deal.

and i think that's my favorite part.

he does anything you tell him do to.  today we were at the doctor's office.  because you have some viral illness.  max has two gummy bears in his hands.  i was trying to get him to either eat them or throw them away.  you said, "max! put them on your  eyeballs!" and then proceeded to laugh and laugh and laugh.

what did max do?

rubbed them on his eyeballs, of course.

then you pipe up, "max! stick em in your pockets!"

what did he do?

yep.  you guessed it.

when you laugh, he laughs.

last night you two were taking a bath.  you would dump freezing cold water on him and then you would both just cackle like witches.

there is no greater gift for me and daddy to sit back and watch you with him.

when you're 34 and you don't know where else to turn, i pray you turn to him.  i'm positive he will have answers for you.  when you're worried about what to do...which path to take...ask for his opinion. he's much  more laid back than you.  and that will be good for you.

and your type A personality will be good for him.  because when he's 25 and still on mine and daddy's couch, we will need someone to help him get a job :)

thank you for what you are.

i'm blessed beyond measure that God chose me to be your mommy.  i CANNOT imagine life without you.

xoxo,
mommy.

twenty thirteen. a wrap up.

on the first day of twenty fourteen, i thought it was only fitting for me to look back and see what i'll most remember about this year.

one. i love my husband more today than ever before.  sure, there are times i want to cut him, but i mean, i wouldn't.  when we thought that maybe he was sick (with his throat thing), i was literally frozen with fear.  the thought of ever having to live here without him, is just too much to take.  i could do it, yes.  because i would have to.  but i hope and pray that i never have to try.

i can remember the first time i saw him.  in zoology lab.  and it was all sort of full circle this year when we got to go back there and share that story with some science students at ouachita.  and dr. knight.  who was the one who professed, "that will be the man you marry" on that first day of us meeting.

clint is smart. and kind.  and the world's best husband.  he cares more about this family of ours than i ever even knew was possible.

two. sometimes when a bridge is burned, it's best to just walk away.  and leave it.  don't try to fix it.  i kinda knew this prior to 2013, but it was burned into me this past year.  like, no question.  no hesitation.  it will be something i tell my children.  i'll make them read this post of jen hatmakers and this post of mine.  my definition of friendship has changed this year.  i realize that a friendship REALLY SHOULD be easy.  and i'll leave that right there.

three.  the plans we have for our kids, are just that.  OUR plans.  and they are in no way God's plans. when i was pregnant with max, i never dreamed he would be born with a severe speech issue.  i never dreamed i would be driving daily 30 minutes away to take him to a speech therapist.  i never thought at 2.5 he would not have any base vocabulary.  i never knew i would see other kids his age, and literally hurt over how far behind he is.  but recently, i realized that no matter how far behind he is, he is perfect.  and he is the way he was MADE to be.  it's weird to think of him as a chatty kid.  will he be?  sure.  at some point.  (sometimes i say things like this out loud just so those around me will agree.  because deep down i worry).  but right now.  right at this moment, i love him how he is.  i love how he runs to me when he sees me.  never saying my name.  just running with his big smile.  i love how he wraps his tiny arms around me.  how he leans in for a kiss without any type of pucker.  he's perfect. i hope he always knows that.

four.  the best way to live...really is to live simply.  we don't need lots of stuff.  just our health.  and our family.  and our friends.  doing jen hatmaker's study messed me up in the best way imaginable.  someone said, "may i learn to live simply so that someone else may simply live".  amen.  amen to that.

and five.  no man is an island.  and it takes a village.  if i was ever brave enough for a tattoo, it would be hard to choose between those two cliches.  they are both so good.  and i've realized their truth more this year than ever before.

happy 2014 to you all.  may it bring health.  and happiness and all the blessings you deserve.  (and even those you don't.  because really, you do :).

xoxo, hannah.

all these gifts.

when I was little, my mom took my sister and I to little rock to the mall to shop.  we did this often.  park plaza. I LOVED it.  we would get clothes.  shoes.  whatever.  and then I would ALWAYS go in the bookstore.  in the corner.  on the second floor. where justice is right now, I think.  I can't remember what book store it was.  but I would buy fear street books.  by r.l. stine.  and I would have those suckers read by the time we got back to Camden.  I would buy as many as could afford. 

on one trip, I remember going in the girls' section of dillards.  finding this espirit jacket.  it was grey and black.

I remember being in that dillards dressing room.  looking at myself in that tri-fold mirror.  I loved it.  it was a great jacket.  and then I saw the tag.  the price.  It was 60 dollars.  that was huge.  I remember coming out and telling mom I didn't want it.  she knew that I liked it...so she was confused.  I must have mentioned the price because she said something like, "well, if you wear it, I don't mind paying that.  as long as you'll wear it."

I knew I'd wear it.  but I said no.  that I didn't need it. 

that had to have happened over 20 years ago.  25 probably.  and I still remember it.  like it was yesterday.

I've always been aware of what things cost.  that doesn't mean that I'm not the same person who was using her father's exxon credit card to buy eggs and velveeta and six packs of cokes at the exxon in Arkadelphia for me and all my friends.  because I was.  that was my grocery store and I didn't even care what it cost.  because I wasn't paying for it.  (no worries.  my dad showed up one night outside my dorm.  asking me for the card.  because my mother was wondering who was spending 500 a month on food at the exxon in Arkadelphia.  but seriously.  cappuccino helped me study all those nights in the science building).  anyway.  that jacket.  I was aware.

at Christmas...I was always aware.  I can remember walking all my many presents up the stairs.  feeling guilty about all that I got.  (I loved it all.  and you never saw me give anything away.  so...)

ever since pratt was born, we have done 3 gifts for him.  same for max.  3 gifts.  3 gifts from santa. THAT IS IT.  there is nothing from us.  just 3 gifts. 

this year he got a kindle fire.  a furby boom.  and a build a bear gift certificate.  max got a v-tech train, a baby doll and a beanbag toss. 

as I set everything up, I realized that it looked small.  and for the first time in 5 years, I was worried.  worried that pratt would walk down and be disappointed.

now.  let me tell you why.

because when I looked on facebook that night...and saw all these gifts...all this stuff, I wondered if I was doing something wrong.  like maybe 3 wasn't enough.  but there wasn't anything I could do about it.  it was midnight.  and well, that was it. 

and I know.  trust me, I KNOW.  Christmas isn't about presents.  I know this.  and he does too.  well, he's been told.  but he's American and he's 5.

when he opened his presents the next morning, he was completely ecstatic.  he loved the furby (it's what he asked santa for).  he LOVED the kindle.  because it had minecraft on it!  and Charlie and lola books.  and he is so excited about making a bear.

as he crawled up in my lap with his kindle, he said, "oh momma.  my eyes are all watery.  because I'm just so happy with all these gifts I got.  they are all so perfect."

yes.  you read that right.  "all these gifts".  ALL.  as in a million.  but really as in his three. 

this prompted clint and me to talk on the way to Camden that day.  talking with clint is one of my favorite things.  honestly.  communication with him is better than most anything else.  as we were talking, I remembered something our former pastor, mark norman said one day in church.  it was this, "you give your children enough to do something...NOT enough to do nothing." amen. 

pratt isn't perfect.  he's a part of me....so he's far from it.  but he's headed in the right direction.  and we will continue to teach him what we think is right.  and good.  and necessary. 

and giving kids so much stuff on Christmas...(to me) is just setting them up for failure in the long run.  at some point, when you are given so much stuff, you lose track of what is important.  in reality, you can really only play with a few things.  max...really, well, he really only likes his train. 

next year..and the year after that...when peer pressure gets to me.  and I feel the need to get the boys 15 gifts, I expect you to hold me accountable.  and remind me of this post. 

merry Christmas...one day late.