To my beautiful boy,
From the moment I first held you, I knew my heart would never be the same. You changed everything, in all the most powerful, humbling, soul-shaping ways.
The world may see your “handicaps” and define you by limitations, but I know better. I see the light in your eyes. I hear your joy in every giggle. I feel the strength in your spirit that refuses to be boxed in. You are so much more than a diagnosis or a chart. You are God’s miracle wrapped in skin. You are joy dressed in resilience.
Your bubbly personality can shift the atmosphere in a room. One smile from you is enough to undo the hardest day. The sparkle in your laughter, the way you light up when you hear music, the peace that settles over you in a swing or a snuggle; those are sacred things. They are reminders that the most beautiful parts of life are often found in some of the smallest of moments.
Being your mommy is the greatest honor of my life. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. If it meant keeping that bright, shining smile on your face, I would push your wheelchair up a mountain. I’d cross oceans while carrying you on my back. I’d change a million diapers and wake up a million times in the night to make sure you’re comfortable, safe, and loved. I already do.
Your care is not simple; it’s complex and layered and, yes, sometimes exhausting. It involves medications, therapies, adaptive equipment, and countless appointments that fill our calendars. There are days it feels like my world is built around checklists and alarms and advocating at the top of my lungs for what you need and deserve. And still, if I had it to do all over tomorrow, I’d do it all again without question. Because you are worth it. Every minute. Every mile. Every sacrifice.
I won’t pretend this journey has been easy. There have been tears, lots of them. Silent ones I cried in hospital rooms, desperate ones I cried pulled over on the side of the road, and loud ones cried into pillows. There have been moments where my body was worn thin, where I felt isolated, or where I wondered if I was doing enough. But regret? Never. Loving you has only expanded my heart, my patience, my purpose. You’ve made me fierce. You’ve made me soft. You’ve made me better. And the best is yet to come!
To the other parents reading this: those who live by feeding schedules, seizure logs, therapy bags, and emergency room visits; I see you. I am you. We are the ones who show up, even when we’re empty. We are the ones who love so big, it hurts. This road isn’t easy, but it’s sacred.
My sweet boy, I will care for you with every ounce of strength in my body, for as long as I’m given the breath to do so. And when I can’t anymore, I pray the world will carry the love I poured into you and multiply it. I pray that all you are will continue to shine and show others that beauty is not found in perfection but in perseverance, in presence, in pure-hearted love. Because are any of us really perfect?
I thank you for allowing me to be your safe place, your cheerleader, your mama. You’ve given my life meaning beyond measure. You’ve guided me to recognize a faith that doesn’t quit. And I promise you hand in hand, wheel by wheel, we’re going to continue building the most beautiful life together.
Forever and always, Mommy