Sixteen years ago today I held a brand new baby on my chest. In one day, my biggest dream came true — I became a mother.
In the years since, J has taught me more than all the years before combined. I hope he has learned a few things from his dad and me. He doesn’t communicate the same way his sister and brother do — lately that looks more like eye-rolling than long conversations — so more than anything I want him to feel certain things when he is with us.
Everything I want JJ to feel applies to all three of my children, each in their own way. These ideas may sound familiar, but they are the foundation I aim for every day. What do you hope your kids feel from you?
Dear JJ,
On your 16th birthday (and every day) I want you to know:
Every step forward is a step in the right direction.
You work hard every day. Some days it feels like you’re moving backward, and then a light flicks on and you take another step forward. Every one of those steps matters. You have taught me to take joy in small victories. I squeal with excitement when you say a complete sentence or remember to do something I asked. Keep going — you just keep on swimming.
We like you for exactly who you are.
You’re wired a little differently. You do unique things, like making sure cords are cut exactly the same length and walking on your tiptoes until your calves look huge. Those little details are part of who you are, and we love you for them. Of course I wish I could ease some of the hard parts for you, but we’re grateful every day for who you are — you make us want to be better.
You are capable of so much.
You surprise us — figuring out locks or getting out of situations you don’t want to be in. People sometimes underestimate you, and then you astonish them. It fills me with pride when you show what you’re made of. We can be tough on you because we want you to keep growing and progressing.
It won’t be easy, but it will be worth it.
The last few years have often felt uncertain and challenging. I’ve worried a lot about where we were headed. Last year I realized, more clearly than before, how many obstacles you face every day. I don’t know why you have autism, and I long for the day we can have full conversations — maybe not in this life, but I hope we will get closer. I hope you’ll tell me all the things that have been inside you for so long.
You are never alone.
You’ve been blessed with a large support network — your sister, brother, aunts, uncles, Grammy, Grandma, teachers and friends. There’s a whole team cheering you on. Beyond that, you have a loving Heavenly Father who walks beside you and guides the people who care for you. I also feel the presence of those who have passed, especially Papa and Grandpa, watching over you. We each show our love differently, but you are surrounded.
You are loved.
Above all, know without a shadow of a doubt that there’s no one in this world who loves you more than your dad and I do. We’ve made mistakes along the way, but love has always guided us. We see your giant heart and your desire to be with family, and we feel lucky.
You love Cheeto Puffs, Katy Perry, and your trampoline. You have the best belly laugh and the brightest smile. You want to be outside any chance you get — camping, swimming, hiking, riding the four-wheeler — anything outdoors makes you come alive. You light up around family. You’re stubborn and stronger than anyone I know. People who spend time with you can’t help but fall in love with you.
My dear sweet boy, you’re the best tour guide on this trip through Holland. You are so very loved.
To read more about our journey over the last year, visit the original post: “When Your Best Isn’t Quite Enough” and see how we celebrated J’s birthday in the past — it was my favorite one so far.