Dear Van,

I can’t believe it was eight years ago today that I was in the back of an ambulance on my way to the hospital. A birth that didn’t go as planned, highlighting what I know to be eight-years-later of just another opportunity in motherhood – but really, in life – where there is nothing left to do but surrender. You came in your own way, on your own time. You have that same perseverance to this day; a perseverance that balances right on the edge of stubbornness.

You’ve needed me in ways that constantly have me questioning if I’m giving you enough, if I am enough. I hope I am.

Your ability to feel and to feel it all so deeply is your superpower. We’re working on pairing those feelings with words; the connection and the subsequent release, the forever goal. You are always willing to learn; not always in the moment… in fact, rarely in the moment. But we circle back around when we can and find a place of understanding. And for your willingness, I’m so grateful.

You’re in the unique position to be both a big brother and a little brother and I know that’s hard at times. I see you. And I see the struggle. I also see a blossoming leader and a loyal friend. I see your love for your brothers, not always at the start of the day but always by the end of the day. Or maybe some days it’s the reverse.

This year is tough with Covid. Last year was tough with your Papa and I’s divorce. Together, we’ve learned we can do hard things. We’re doing hard things. There’s no one I’d rather grow strong alongside. You have fueled my own motivation to grow through what I go through. I hope I can be, or have been, the same to you. It’s my forever goal to show you; actions over words, always.

Today is all about you. A celebration of you. I’m so happy we get to do this life together. You are my light, my love, and my endless supply of lessons; reminding me to continuously surrender and to get up and try again. Over and over. Happy Birthday. I love you.

-Mama