I'm sitting by myself on the eve of your 8th birthday. Already crying. Go figure.
So much has happened this year, my sweet love. To you. To us. The biggest one being the shift in your family. Fault lines that started as hairline fractures widened to chasms this year. I ache every day hoping one day you understand. You'll never know how much it hurt me and Daddy to make the choices we made this year. I do hope you understand how hard we tried. This time last year we were prepping you for your MRI. We were tentative and rocky from the hard winter we had gone through, and we tried so hard to keep you from seeing what was happening, what we were trying to keep from happening. I remember telling your dad while you were sedated that no matter what had happened with us, I was glad I had him there with me. That I couldn't imagine sharing that scary moment in parenting with anyone else. That is still true. There will always be moments that I can only ever share with Daddy.
Family looks different this year. I know. I feel it too, and it hurts me. When you get out of bed a thousand times a night, just making sure I'm still home. When you cry at night for Daddy. When you're upset if I leave for a meeting. When you yell at him and are so angry because he isn't home anymore, even though it was me who asked him to leave. I feel you, little girl, and I'm so sorry you're hurting. You have grown so much this year. Not just your body, but your spirit grew too. A year ago, if there was a slight change in your routine you would dissolve. Now you're learning to handle transition with grace. Your insight on the world teaches me new things all the time. Your empathy and compassion grow every day. Your strong sense of justice and loathing for anything unfair, sneaky, or cowardly inspire me. There were days this winter when I struggled to get out of bed. Days I cried and you stroked my hair. Days we cried together. I'm sorry you had to go through this but I never could have done it without you. You're the reason I get out of bed. The reason I'm strong. The reason I live without bitterness or regret. The reason your dad is working hard to be healthy and happy. It's all you, babe. You make us so much better. I know parents say "I gave you life", but you gave me mine. Any good there is in me I see reflected out of your blue eyes and I can't regret a single second of my life that brought me to you.
8 years ago tonight I was napping on the couch. Uncomfortable. Irritable. Impatient. Daddy was on his computer. You'd been in there too long and I wanted you out of me. It wasn't until the next morning that all the pain was a foggy memory and the last 294 days were a speck on the horizon, because I had you in my arms, looking at me with purple blueberry eyes. Your skin on my skin sparked magic between us, little one. I hurt when you hurt. I feel joy when you do. We became connected at the very heart of me, even though the cord that connected your body to mine was cut at that moment.
There is no guidebook, Lilah Rose. I don't have a mother to call and ask if I'm doing this right. I don't have a grandma fussing over you catching a chill or telling me how things were when she was raising her kids while I roll my eyes. I'm winging it every step of the way, and all I have is my intuition. I'm not always right. I'm so far from perfect. But everything I do is for you. I'd fight whoever I had to for you, serve on committees I hate to make your education better. I'd march through the city streets to show you no one can take away your power. I'd go to countless hours of specialist visits and IEP meetings to make sure the world understands how you learn, instead of them asking you to learn like everyone else. And when it came down to it, I'd burn down the life we built for you, if I thought it was the only way to save your relationship with your dad. I can't say I'd do it without a second thought. Because I have them. Every day. And oh, so much guilt and fear. But you're so strong, little bird. And so brave. You're amazing. And tomorrow, you're 8. It's the greatest honor of my life to be yours.
With all my love,
Mama
