I was cleaning up my google docs today and came across this snippet of writing.  I am unsure if I have ever shared it before, since I went a different direction with the “Dear Me” letter I wrote for HAH.  It was important for me to read today, and I thought maybe others need to hear these truths.  We are all walking paths that require strength and the knowledge that we are enough.  Even in our brokenness, even with our many mistakes, even within our exhaustion … we are enough.  We are on this journey for a reason.  We are in this together.

***Dear Me,

Today, life as you know it ended.  It has happened to you before, and here you are again.  All you heard today, after a long ultrasound you endured alone, was “There is something wrong with your baby’s heart.”  You can’t even remember what they called the defect, because at that moment, you crumbled.

You didn’t feel you would ever be able to move forward.  The grief and fear that enveloped your heart, this diagnosis day, made it hard to believe you would even remember how to walk.  But you will. You will move one foot in front of the other. Some days, you will even skip.

It will be hard for you to fathom, right now, but there are two things you need to know.

#1) You. Are. Enough.

#2) You. Are. Strong.

In the months to come, you will feel alone in ways you have never experienced before.  You will wonder where you will find the next reserve of strength, but it will always be there when you need it.***

I just shared, in a facebook group I am in centered around kindness and giving, that I am thankful for hidden pockets of strength.  I have been surprised so many times in my life by the strength I always seem to find when I need it most.  Don’t get me wrong – sometimes it takes a few days or weeks or months to find it – but it comes eventually.  I have learned to trust the journey I’m on, even when it feels dark and weak and lonely and scary.  I know the strength is inside me, and I know that I am enough even as I wait for it.

At least today, I know.  So I wanted all of you to know too.  One more time:

You. Are. Enough.

You. Are. Strong.

You. Are. LOVED.

 

It has been a hard month.

I have thought about writing so many times, but it feels so difficult to claw my way out of the darkness and leave anything I might write with some glimmer of light.

But the light is there.  I can never deny its existence.

I am being pulled in so many different directions.  I do not get to just focus on being mom anymore, and I miss those days.  I also see the benefits – for myself AND (shocker) for Kiran – when I focus on other aspects of my own personhood.  I am mom and part owner of a catering business that is starting to slowly grow and student…and friend and singer and writer and listener and and and.  I am a whole person who happens to be Kiran’s mom.  And I feel like stepping outside of the one role and really embracing all the others…helps me know and understand and BE the mom he needs.

But it’s hard.

My baby turns four tomorrow.  And this life doesn’t look like I wanted it to.  For me.  For him.  For our family.  I haven’t talked much – intentionally – about the grieving process I continue to go through with his dad.  I haven’t talked much – intentionally – about the struggles we have navigating this new family situation.  It wears on me.  I still won’t be writing about it.  That has to stay private, and it eats away at me.

Along with that, tonight, I realized that it is still so hard for me to not tell everyone the story.  I wish people could understand what happened.  Who I am, who he is, why things are the way they are, why I grieve so many things about where we are now.

Since I saw the positive pregnancy test, my entire life has been about this boy of mine.  That hasn’t changed, and it won’t.  Though others may not always understand my decisions – and it pains me to not be able to give the entire story – rest assured, I am always – ALWAYS – doing what I feel is best for Kiran.  In every instance.  Even when it hurts me.  Even when it may hurt others.  His well-being is paramount in my decision-making, and I will forever be an advocate for him.  I will forever stretch myself and strengthen myself in order to grow to be the mom I need to be for him.

Growing pains.  They call them that for a reason.  Growth is painful.

Here’s the joy.  It’s always present.  Kiran is SO loved.  Tomorrow, we celebrate the day he came into the world and changed it for the better.  He will wake up with me, his dad will meet us at preschool drop-off, he will spend some time with me in the afternoon after school and his nap, and he will go spend the evening and have bedtime with his dad.

And it all hurts.  And it’s all beautiful.  And it’s important.  For him.  He is so loved.

We have packed a lot into his four years of life, and it has been a journey I never imagined.  In so many ways, this is not where I ever thought I would be in life.  But I can’t deny the change in me.  I can’t regret where he’s brought me – in my ability to love, in my faith, in my growth, in my strength, in my painful stretching…..

The sayings go around facebook all the time, about how you have to let go of the life you thought you’d have and start living the life you’re in.  The poignancy of that astounds me.  Today was a day I stood in church, at the end of a sermon about leaving the 99 for that one sheep who went astray…and tears streaming down my face, with my son’s arms around me, hugging me tight, I sang the song Reckless Love.

Because I am lost.  And yet, I am recklessly pursued.  And that is also a place I never thought I would be again, inside that understanding.

I am thankful for where I am, for the life I am living.

If this seems scattered and confusing, it’s because that is my life.  It’s our life.

It’s a long road ahead, but we journey together.

I truly, TRULY wouldn’t have it any other way.  I would never trade the hard and real and everyday of this life with Kiran for the fairytale ending with the white picket fence.

Because on our journey, we get to be who we are, messes and all.

And so much love.

I was attempting to borrow trouble before it was our time.

I had nothing to worry about this year, as it pertained to Kiran’s IEP meeting.  He truly has a fantastic team in place, and they all really give me the feeling they have his best interests at heart.

It helps that the preschool environment is inclusive by nature.  It will get harder, but it doesn’t have to be harder now.

I felt heard, respected, and like part of the team.  I was pleased with members of the team that spoke up to ensure things were being addressed clearly and documented properly.  All of my concerns and suggestions were readily accepted and will be put in the document.

I still need to educate myself more on this process and this document and what it will look like moving forward.  I need to educate myself more on what inclusion could look like for Kiran, and I need to prepare myself to respectfully advocate for it.

I didn’t put a lot of thought or effort into this IEP meeting – It was a last minute list I threw together.  It can’t continue that way.  He deserves more.  And it will get harder.  And he will need an advocate.

And that’s my job.

But for now, here’s to another great year with a great team – looking forward to some awesome progress this year!