Monday, February 6, 2012


Dear Sam,

I am writing to apologize to you, my sweet baby boy.

You see, I was not prepared for you. Since you were 8 months old, you have been on the go- always moving, always active. You have been an intensely physical child from the very beginning- at all times you challenge yourself to do more, climb higher, reach further. You are determined and stubborn. You are all boy. And it is exhausting just watching you, let alone trying to keep up.

I wasn't prepared for a child who didn't want to talk. For a child that didn't want to sit and cuddle, or read books and play quietly. I looked at you- your boyish spirit, your need for action, your adventurous ways, and I thought "Oh no! How am I going to deal with this?"

And at times, I resented your lack of need for me. I ached for you to want me to hold you, or for you to look to me for comfort.

But you don't.

And I am realizing the beauty in all of that sweet boy. I am looking at you with new eyes- eyes that are opened to the wonder that you are. I am embracing you as a whole- your active ways, your expressive eyes, and your silence. I am waking up to what your world is like- so physical, so driven to move and to play that words get...lost or forgotten. Words lose meaning in the face of a line of monster trucks in the sun, or a swing swaying in the breeze.

I am loving your quiet and sturdy presence. You take everything in. You absorb it all. And your heart is so big. Despite being so focused on what you want, you have an amazing empathy for those who are sad or hurt.

Sometimes I just watch you as you watch your world. I see you sit in your own silence, your eyes and hands always moving, moving. Pushing cars, climbing furniture, stacking legos. I see you turn your eyes to your sister with such love. You wrap your arms around her and squeeze her tight. You call for her when she is at school.

I have a confession: for a long time I wondered if you were okay, if your silence spoke of something broken inside. If it was something I did...Is it me? Am I not nurturing you as you need?

But now I know differently. All of your lights are on buddy- glowing brighter everyday. You are funny, and kind, and remarkable. You are determined and loving and stubborn. You are smart and compassionate.

And you have shown me all of these pieces of yourself, without speaking. And that, in itself, is wondrous.

So here's to you, my sweet quiet one. I can't wait to see what else you have to teach me.