He’s my baby, my boy. And he’s eleven years old today.
I find myself struggling for words. The accident dominates everything, still. I try to put it in some sort of perspective, and see it as part of the process. It’s just one more detail in your life
Things will be harder for him in a lot of ways. He can’t see as well as most people. But in a lot of ways, he’s got advantages that a lot of other people don’t. He’s incredibly bright, and sweet and kind. He’s got us, all of us. His dad, who works so hard to support him in every way possible. He’s got me, and not to brag – but I’m doing my best, every day to advocate for him, to anticipate his needs, to push him to do his best and try harder. He’s got four sisters, all of them love him and tease him and laugh with him, and want him to succeed.
At eleven, he’s halfway to adulthood. I look back over the past eleven years, and I’m so grateful for all that Sam has brought into my life. Sam taught me how to be an advocate, how to stand up for him and to trust his instincts. The hardest lessons I’ve learned, as a mother, are how to trust the process, to take the long view instead of the immediate one. Sam is one of the best people I’ve ever known. He’s endlessly kind and thoughtful, and stronger than any eleven year old should be.
Happy birthday Samilicious Boy. I love you more than you’ll ever know, and I’m forever grateful to be your mom.
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