A letter to my firstborn boy...

A letter to my firstborn boy on your first day of Kindergarten,

Hudson.  Today is a big day.  A really big day.  For you.  But also for me.  Today is the day I send you out into the school world.  Into a world of  backpacks and school supplies, teachers and classmates, cafeterias and gyms, libraries and computer labs, cold lunches and hot lunches, playgrounds and recess.  It's a world you don't know yet.  But I do.  And son...I'm scared.

We have been on quite a journey together over the last 5 years.  And I cannot even begin to explain how much my heart is wrapped up into yours.  Like truly wrapped up.  I have spent most moments of your life right beside you.  I have eaten every meal with you, planned every activity, answered every inquisitive question, and wiped away every tear.  I have sat in waiting rooms, doctors offices, hospital bedsides.

I have walked you through every complex emotion.  I was there the first time you felt angry and hit me.  I was there the first time you felt anxious and burst into tears.  I was there the first time you felt fear and wrapped your tiny arms around my neck.

We have seen it all.

We've been on the inside of MRI machines, operating rooms, and x-rays.  We've played on every slide, monkey bar, and swing set right alongside each other.  We've been through it all.  Good and bad.  Light and dark.  Together.

And today.  On this really big day.  I have to loosen my grip on you and send you off to do some of these things on your own.  I have to trust that I have prepared you well enough to handle this big scary school world.  And Hudson.  Sweet boy of mine.  I'm just not ready.  I just want to hold onto you a little bit longer.

For the past 5 years your dad and I have tried so hard to never stereo-type or define you by what the world calls a disability.  But let's be honest for a minute.  Because you have Spina Bifida, you are walking into this school world with a very obvious challenge.  A very obvious difference.  And son, it breaks my heart to tell you this, but the world is going to make you feel less than because of it.  Some kids will laugh.  Some kids will name call.  Some kids will bully you and make you feel small.  But Hudson, hear me when I tell you, none of what they say will be true.

I know.  I walked through every moment of these last 5 years with you.  I'm an expert.  I've studied you since the moment you entered this world.

So listen to this truth, my dear son.  When all of the lies are thrown at you, cling to this truth.

You are the bravest boy that I know.  Not because you never feel fear, but because you have experienced and felt deeply more scary things than most people go through in a lifetime.  And still, every morning you wake up cheerfully ready to take on another day.

You are the strongest boy that I know.  Not because you are the fastest or can lift the heaviest things, but because you push yourself to your limit every single time.  And when you fall down, you get right back up and keep moving.  You don't cry when life kicks you down, Hudson.  Ever.  You don't stop.  You don't feel sorry for yourself.  This, my dear boy, is strength most others can only dream about having.  You live it.  Every. Single. Day.

You are the sweetest, most tender-hearted, boy that I know. Not because you always say nice things,  but because when you are mean I see your heart break.  You have a deep compassion inside you that leads to repentance and restoration.  You see into the souls of people, Hudson.  You know when people need support and help.  When you could sit around and feel sorry for yourself, instead, you zero in on the most vulnerable and pour yourself out for their sake.

Hudson, you see this world so much differently than the rest of us do.  What others may see as your weaknesses, I see as your greatest strengths.

Don't you see?  WE have so much to learn from YOU.

It's not the other way around.

Hudson...my boy.  I pray you would always choose this truth.  Even on the hard days.  Even when you feel like you just aren't measuring up.  I pray that you will be a light in the darkness.  That you won't run from your differences, but will lean into them.  That you would know your place in the Kingdom of God.

Remember.  You don't have to be the best, the winner, or the fastest.  You don't have to fight for your place in this world.  You've been given a place.  You've been given a name.  You have nothing to prove.  You are secure.

So go out there, and show this world what you've got.

I am so proud to call you mine.

Love, your Mama