Dear sweet not-so-baby boy,
I’m writing this letter to you as an apology. You are beyond a doubt the sweetest, most kind-hearted, gentle soul I have ever met. I’m so sorry for what I have done over your past 8 years, and I’m sorry for what I have not done. Kellen Thomas, you mean the world to me, and I have truly let you down.
I’m sorry that I thought you would grow out of it. That is a horrible mentality for a mom to have. It made me blind to what your needs truly were. Once you hit what I thought was old enough, I pushed aside your instant tears because I thought you should have grown out of that. I assumed that at some point you wouldn’t be so sensitive anymore. I had no idea that deep down, you were struggling and me shrugging it off wasn’t helping.
I’m sorry that it took me 8 years before I discovered that the way you twist up your sweet little hands is really the beginning signal that you are overwhelmed, uncomfortable and confused. I’m sorry that you couldn’t come to me in those moments, so you developed a tick to help you self soothe. I am so sorry that my response when I saw you do that was to forcefully tell you to knock it off.
I’m sorry that “walk-it-off” was the constant mantra you heard from me when you’d be playing and then get hurt. Sure I’d kiss your ouchies, but I’m sorry that I didn’t realize that all you needed was a longer hug and extra reassurance.
I’m sorry that I signed you up to play sports that I thought a boy should play. And even when they moved so fast you couldn’t keep up, you tried your best, twisted up hands and all. I’m sorry that I made you feel like you couldn’t say you didn’t get it.
I’m sorry that my expectations for you at school were so high that you thought you had to hide your struggles. Leaving months of homework scrunched up in your locker rather than bringing them home and asking for help.
Most of all, I’m sorry that my projection of what a little boy should be/do/act clouded my vision of the wonderfully amazing son that you actually are.
You are MY son. You are fearfully and wonderfully made at the hands of God.
So, my little monkey from now on, when you cry, no matter what the circumstances are… run to me.
When you are overwhelmed at life or sports… come to me.
When you feel the anxiety creeping up and you don’t know what to do… twist my hands.
When your feelings or body are hurt… cry to me.
When you are confused because the words or math problems are hard… bring them to me.
You are the perfect son and I wouldn’t trade you for anything.
Thank you for turning me into the mommy I never thought I’d be.
I’m here for you always and forever,