{She Said} A Letter to My Son

Dear Zachary-

I’ve told you this story many times already and I will most likely continue but in the case that time moves on and this becomes more and more distant to me, I guess I will write it down.

You were born a week early. Good boy- better to be early than late. I have come to believe that you moved down into my pelvis too early and that is why you decided to force your way out sooner rather than later. You see, I believe that because you moved down too early, that your head wasn’t able to grow like it should have been so you, being very prudent, decided it was time to come on out rather than stay in trouble in there. I am so proud of you for looking out for yourself. Had you not come out early, your head would have continued to be restricted and that might have caused irreparable damage.

As it is, you were born with a small head. It looked perfectly normal, but the measurements were low. At first I just thought it was super cute. You would bobble it around and it was so precious. You were able to hold up your head immediately- We joked that it was because it was so light. However, when you were two months old, your tiny head became the focus of a lot of speculation and next thing I knew, we were being rushed to a neurologist and then to a MRI and CT. This meant that your tiny two month old body had to be put to sleep with medicine. There were a lot of doctors talking to one another. There was discussion about what your life would be like. I kept asking if there was hope of good news and was told no.

I went into a functioning coma. I walked around. I fed myself. I fed you. We cuddled. I clutched you close to me. I had never experienced this kind of fear before. It was raw and enormous. I couldn’t take deep breaths due to the heaviness in my chest. I was sad for you. I was sad for me. I was horribly ashamed for feeling sorry for myself. I couldn’t talk about it.

We were out of the house before the sun was up on the day you were to be tested. How do you prepare mentally for this kind of day? This is life changing. I held your tiny hand for the entire drive to the hospital. Finally the time came for you to be taken. You were in good hands but they weren’t mine and I didn’t trust that they knew who they cared for and how important he was. I was worried they didn’t know that they carried a piece of my heart with them.

It was only about forty minutes. Grandpa took the call. You were fine. I jumped up and then immediately fell down into prayer. I was shaking. That good news I had been told was impossible was given. When we finally got to see you again you were HUNGRY. As soon as you were fed, you were smiling. Smiling. At two months old you would look at me and smile. Even then there was something about you that wanted to reassure me. You were laying there hooked up to IVs, heart monitors, breathing monitors, etc and you were completely relaxed and cheerful.

We’ve always been in sync you and I. During my pregnancy with you, all I had to do was think about being worried because I hadn’t felt you in a while and you would give the slightest twinge. During labor, you were pushing yourself out just as much as I was helping you along the way. In infancy, you were always clear with what you needed and trusted me to provide as fast as possible. We’re a team and you’ve always pulled your weight. That became even clearer after your hospital tests.

They told me that everything looked completely normal, we would have to watch you for a year to make absolutely sure that there wasn't anything we were missing. If there was something wrong, developmental delays could start at any time and in any way. You would have to be continually monitored and at the first sign of a problem, we would intervene. You and I made sure that wasn’t necessary.

We worked. When you started pushing up, I cheered you on to crawling. You watched older babies constantly, working to mimic what they were doing. I said simple words to you over and over again so that you could pick them up. You stared intently at and played with all the different colors and shapes in your toy box, perfecting your grip and then your pinch.

At every appointment you were ahead. You wowed everyone but mostly me. Here is the thing- if you hadn’t been ahead, I would have spent the entire year worrying about you. You never gave me a chance. You propelled yourself forward without so much as a huff. You just did everything. And as if it were nothing.

You are very head strong and focused. I hope these develop into positive traits because, in me, I don’t know that they always are. In you, so far, they have spelled inspiration.

I love you. I will always try to be better for you. I will always try to be exactly what you need- just as you have always been exactly what I have needed.

-Mom