happy birthday party to my max wesley.

tonight i was putting max to bed.

his third birthday party is tomorrow.  his actual birthday isn't until tuesday.  but his party is tomorrow.

and i was asking him if he was excited about his balloons.  and the cake.  and the guests.  and the games.  and crafts.  and everything i'm not in charge of because his incredible school is doing it all.

he's excited.  and giggles and shakes with excitement when i mention it.

it's been a long time since i've documented what my max is like these days. and i think now is an appropriate time to do just that.

he is "talking" more than ever before.  a lot of this isn't recognizable by everyone.  but clint, pratt and i have gotten really good at figuring it all out.

he's been saying, "more (fill in the blank)" a lot lately.  even "more cheese please".  which is a huge.  because that's a total phrase.

he asks about pratt every morning when he wakes.  if he isn't downstairs already, he will say, "where at?" and when pratt leaves for preschool, he does the same thing.

he's not shy about attempting to talk anymore.  he will try to say anything.  and if you don't understand, he will physically take you somewhere until you get it.  and when you get it, he will smile at you like you've made his day.

his smile is unlike anything i've ever seen before.  pratt was a really happy kid.  that's not what this is.  it's more than that.

i have decided it's his way of telling me he's okay.  that even though he doesn't talk like the other kids his age, he understands and wants me to understand that all is well.

maybe i'm dreaming.  but i hope i never wake.

he has this way of looking off and smiling.  like he's thinking.  it melts you.  totally and completely melts you.

he's also a bit of a pain in the hiney.  like he will straight up not speak to people.  and it drives me bananas.  pratt has NEVER IN THE HISTORY OF THE WORLD not spoken to someone.  it's not in his DNA.  max.  nope.  he will take it or leave it.  he's NOT spending his time worrying about someone else's feelings.

he can eat until you force him to stop.  one of his favorite foods is broccoli. he loves raspberries.  and anything from chick fil a.  today i caught him sniffing the chicken finger box.  yes you guys.  sniffing it.  hilarious.  he loves blueberries and blackberries.  he loves string cheese.  and bananas with peanut butter.  he loves honey toast.  and edamame.

he's maybe close to potty training.  i don't know.  some days are better than others.  if he's busy doing something, you can forget it.  if i take off all his clothes, he will find a potty before going.  i should be better about it.  and i will.  because i mean, he can't be 3 and not potty trained.  well, he CAN be.  but he shouldn't be.

he LOVES playing outside.  in the dirt.  in the water.  in the mud.  in the grass.  on the swings.  in the mancave.  you name it, and he loves it.  he loves to pick flowers for me.  and bring them to me smiling the whole way.

he loves rachel, his incredible speech therapist.  he loves going up there four days a week.  he never wants to leave.

he's a happy, healthy, smart little boy.  and i cannot imagine my life without him.

had you told me four years ago that he would be pretty nonverbal.  and have a severe speech delay.  with a lot of other "labels", i would have laughed.  and told you whatever.  and i would have stayed up all night trying to figure out what i was supposed to do with that.

but i'm here now.  in the midst of it.  i'm in the arena.  i'm marred with dust and sweat and blood.  i'm tired.  and there are days when i want to give up.  but i remember that this is bigger than me.  it's bigger than my ego.

in fact, it's not about me at all.  it's about a little boy who depends SOLELY on his mom and dad to do the right thing.  and so that's what i'm attempting to do.

and you know what, it feels right.  it feels normal.  it feels like it should.

max is what life is all about.  embracing what God has given us.  loving what He thought we needed.  NOT what WE thought we needed.

happy almost third birthday to my sweet max.

i love you more than i love oreos dipped in milk.  more than i love trips to barnes and noble.  more than i love the smell of coffee in the morning.  i'm blessed to watch you grow.  and learn.  i cannot wait to see what else is in store for you.

xoxo,
momma.

first mistake.

i woke from a dream where max talked.  where he talked and talked and told me what he wanted for lunch.  where he would silence pratt because he just wouldn't give up until pratt just flat out stopped talking.

he told me he loved me.  when i kissed him at bedtime, he said, "i love you too mom.  see you in the morning.  good night."

he talked to his friends at school.  he called my parents on the phone.

basically i had a dream where he was a typical, average 3 year old kid.  (we are less than one month from being 3).

when i opened my eyes, i felt as though someone had punched me in the gut.  knocked the wind out of me.  i wanted to cry.  i wanted to roll over and bury my head in the pillow and scream that it wasn't fair.

about a minute into my 34 year old fit, i remembered yesterday.

i remembered him walking away from the big koi pond at the siamang exhibit and turning to another body of water and saying (clear only to me and pratt), "mom! more fish!"

it was then i took a deep breath.  i steadied myself.  i remembered a quote i have seen somewhere.  access?  a bible study?

perseverance is not a long race.  it is many short races one after another.  - w.elliot.

i know better.  i know in my heart he will one day talk.  i just know it.

but this waiting game.  sometimes i think that God might have the wrong mom.  that he might have made his first mistake.  because this waiting and this patience...it's hard.

being a parent is the hardest thing ever.
it's also the best.

and for that, i'm so thankful.

and this picture is so funny.  and appropriate.  there's pratt. with his map.  and his arm around max...even leaning in.  smiling.  doing exactly what i ask.

and then there's max.  hat tilted.  shirt unbuttoned.  leg cocked.  and arms in back pockets.

night and day.  night AND day.  so blessed.

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.