Year 10

To my sweet boy,

    Year 10.  Ooph.  Double digits.  It feels like just yesterday I was waiting for your dad to get

home to take me to the hospital to deliver you.  I was in awe of you.  I had already studied

you from inside the womb.  I felt I knew you.  I knew how you loved to push boundaries

(right against my ribs) and I joke how I was teaching you to obey from the womb. 

You made me crave peanut butter which is still one of your favorite foods.  

    Fast forward. I think the last letter I wrote to you on the eve of your birthday was in 2020. 

Anyone reading this will chuckle at the mention of that year.  Lord have mercy.  My word for

that year was “new” and boy did it bring a lot of “new”.   Here’s a direct quote from my last

letter to you, “I’m excited to see the “New” things He will do this year.  Part of my “New” I

promise to you is an investment in you.  Addie takes a lot of my attention and energy.  I

feel like you often get the short end of the stick.  But we will discover “new” together this

year.”  I’m proud to say that I fulfilled that promise.  We pulled you from public school to

homeschool for 2nd grade.  You were diagnosed with ADHD and along with your speech

delay and processing disorder, you were falling behind.  You and I spent the year together. 

We focused on reading and math but did fun experiments, art projects and even went to

Mount Vernon after reading a book about George Washington. I got to spend the year studying

you.  I learned how your brain works.  I learned how you processed emotions.  We got you into

an amazing speech therapist and occupational therapist.  2020 was indeed “the year of Trey”....

Fast forward.

    2021 brought more “new”.  “New” that wasn’t prayed for or expected.  Things happened that were

beyond my control.  I didn’t write you a letter that year.  It was too hard.  In truth, my life was your

letter.  The choices I made were your letter.  The way I loved you every day in every hard moment

of 2021 was my letter.  

    We moved out of the Hawthorne house and into a much smaller house in August of 2021.  Addie

was already attending Shallowford Presbyterian.  You and I started Shallowford too- you in 3rd

and I took the Teacher’s Assistant position for 2nd grade.  I loved being able to see you during

the day.  I loved seeing you thrive socially.  Shallowford is a place where you found acceptance. 

It was a home for all three of us.  

    In November 2021, you found out that Daddy and I were no longer going to be married.  That

was incredibly hard.  You had an amazing play therapist that you had been seeing for months

that helped us all process this change. You had ways of processing these changes that were

challenging and sometimes scary.  However, you were amazing.  I’m so proud of the ways that

you have worked through this and grown. In July 2022, you gained a step mother, step

sister and best friend cat named Mittens.  You took this change bravely.          

    I cannot be more proud of how you have handled the last couple years.  I am incredibly proud

of who you are.  Again, 10 years after pregnancy, I am in awe of you.  After 2020, I thought I knew

you.  But you continue to amaze and astound me.  You are smart (we had you tested- your IQ is

incredible), brave, obedient, respectful, and hilarious.  I tease you and call you weird and you

say “the world would be boring if it didn’t have weird people in it”.  You are 100% correct and I

love that we can be weird together.  You have such a great sense of humor.  I tried to teach you

to use the microwave the other day.  You said “mom, why isn’t it working?”  I said “dude. 

You have to close the door.”  You chuckled and said, “Ha!  I’m ADHD.”  

My word for 2023 is “safe”.  I’m the gatekeeper, my love.  That is a job that I am honored to

hold for you.  I am learning to speak up.  In 2020, when we were getting you speech, OT and

starting to get you diagnosed with ADHD, I was learning to advocate for you.  I was learning

what you needed and couldn’t communicate because of your speech and processing issues.  I’m still growing in how I can advocate for you.  As we ring in the new year and the double digits, I return to writing my birthday letter to you and promise to keep you safe.  

Love,

Mama


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Dots

Method to our Madness

Rainbow