So truth be told. I started writing this letter to you while we were sitting in Chic-fil-a. I was watching you and Emerson play and the words just started flowing. I was afraid I would forget what I wanted to say to you – so I started to write it in a text on my phone…Here is what I wrote on that day while I watched you play.
Sometimes I just look at you and can’t believe your mine. For the first couple of years of your life, I took credit for how good you were….it must be my parenting…but the reality is that you are good because it is just who you are at the core. When you were born – (all 9 lbs. 6 oz. of you) you challenged me in such a way that I had never imagined. As you slumbered peacefully in my arms, my tears fell on you. I mourned the broken expectations that I had. I cried for the life that I thought you were destined to live. A life filled with hospital stays and pain. At that time the word hemophilia was so new to us. As your daddy and I laid in that hospital bed we laughed through tears that you would be the best dart thrower, as we tried to think of the things you would be able to do. We made plans on how to pad the house and I searched the internet (and bloomingdales) for clothes that had padding in them. One time I found a pair of pants that had zippers in the knees so that I could put sponges in them to protect you knees. … I called every store in the US to buy you a pair for each year of your life. I think I ended up with 11 (you have worn them only once). I still remember the very moment where I saw you as more then just my son with hemophlia. You were two months old and you looked up and smiled at me…..that was all it took – I was yours. On that day – I vowed to stop crying… and to move forward. If I didn’t stop feeling sorry for myself …how could I expect to raise a son who didn’t feel sorry for himself. You challenged me to let go of all those expectations and embrace the today that we were given. I let go of expectation for a cure. I let go of the fear of the unknown and in turn embraced this life with all that I have. And here you are – my beautiful 6 year old. You are my gift!
You are obsessed with everything Legos – how you manage to put them together and then keep them together is impressive. You and your daddy are the very best of friends. You two sit and watch sports together and are in absolute hysterics when the e-trade baby commercial comes on. … ohh and that laugh…You have a laugh that I wish I could bottle up and hear on days where laughter seems so far away.
You have been playing soccer and swimming for 3 years now – and while you are not the best one on the team.. you have the heart of a winner. You love school and my heart swells with pride when I see you jump out of the car with barely a goodbye to me, because you can’t wait to call to to a friend you see in the distance. As a mom there is nothing that feels as good as seeing your kids succeed. My only hope for you as you grow up is to stay true to who you are b.c you are fantastic.
As I tucked you in bed tonight we talked about life. You have decided that on my next birthday that I will start going backwards in age … so that I won’t grow old. You tell me tonight that you will be the man of the house. I ask you who you are going to marry and without blinking an eye you say “Emerson”. At which point you quietly say ” I really like that sunshine song”… I haven’t sang it to you in a while b.c I thought you didn’t like it anymore now that you are a big boy…. but apparently you aren’t too old for me to “tickle this back” and sing You are my sunshine.
