Eli

Eli,

I have wanted to write this piece for a while. I have gone back and forth about its title. The picture I would use. The little things that do not really matter. Maybe this blog things has stifled my writing just as much as it has helped it. I pause. Edit. Think. Too much about what I am putting out there, rather than letting this space be something authentic for me.. So will i post this? Maybe? Not certain yet. But I can tell you that amongst what I will or will not say about my son on social media. This deserves to be written. So here we are.

Eli. You are remarkable. The love I have for you and how proud you make me everyday is immeasurable. You have had a life that in so many ways has been unfair to you thus far. You understand no pity. You never feel down, or bad for yourself. You are resilient, because that is all you understand how to be. You take challenges head on, with patience and something I see in you, but will never be able to describe. You keep me in check. You remind me that the little things are, little things. You do not speak much but when you do, it’s amazing. I have seen you connect with everyone in your life without needing to speak. You are kind and gentle and so so protective of your little brother, even when he is wrong.

I love your loyalty to things. You are faithful and consistent. I mean, how else could anyone eat chicken nuggets every single night for dinner for three years and not get sick of it? You are predictable. But oh so so unpredictable. You continue to amaze me, and remind me that taking you outside of your comfort zone is a good thing.

You are strong. You spent the first year of your life on antibiotics and with more ear infections than I can remember. But you were tough from the start. Maybe because you had to be? Because Dad and I literally had no idea what we were doing? Or maybe God made you exactly who you are. Exactly what we needed you to be. Unbreakable. Thank you for what you bring out in me. Thank you for making me the best version, the best title, the best person I could ever want to be. Your mommy.

I see so much of your Dad in you. Level headed. Logical. Loyal. But as much as I love your father, you are better than both of us. I see you. I see how you overcome every single hurtle with unwavering grit. You will succeed. You do not give yourself the option. I admit at times I limit you. I fear for you to be uncomfortable, stretched or scared. I think every mother does that with their babies. Thank you for always showing me how silly and minor those fears are. You are able Eli. More able than neither Dad nor I get to decide. I refuse to hold you back. I want you to fly.

Because that is exactly who you are, my butterfly. I know life feels like a cocoon at times. Dark, unfamiliar. Like we just can't get in a rhythm. I feel that too. But Eli. Much like God promises us that there will be light and joy in the morning, I can promise you the same. That as we work, we push, we grow together in this cocoon for now, one day you won’t need me anymore. You won’t need us. You will be... your own way. Your own butterfly. So for now, while I get to hold you tight, watch you sleep, and pray over your mind, heart, growth, and happiness, I will encourage you, love you, believe in who you are and who you keep proving to be. I will continue to witness this. To witness you. My miracle.

Love Mommy.