I don’t believe he’s going to be twelve years old.
When I look back over the past twelve years, I find myself thinking about how I’m never quite sure what I’m doing with Sam. He was my first natural birth, because Jessie was a c-section, and I had no idea how to push. Everyone kept telling me to push, and I was confused and bewildered, and I swear to God, he just pushed his way out on his own. He knew what he needed, what he wanted, and he made it happen.
Same thing with nursing. I had nursed Jessie, but that was a completely different experience. Sam was a voracious nurser, and nursed for comfort as much or more as he did for nutrition. I was baffled by it – I had taken detailed notes on how long and which side with Jessie for weeks – but with Sam, he nursed so consistently, so often, I gave up tracking it on the second or third day. Again, he knew what he needed, and he made it happen.
I didn’t initially get that Sam had an anxiety disorder. I thought it was normal separation anxiety, maybe a little more pronounced because he was a boy. He wasn’t anxious when he was with me. Sam knew what he needed to feel safe, and he fought like hell to make sure he got it.
When we made the decision to pull him out of public school, I was terrified. I had no idea how to homeschool but I knew trying to force him into a public school setting was harming him. When he was in the accident – suffice it to say that terror was the least of what I was feeling. It was the very worst time in my life, and even now, writing about it is enough to bring me to tears.
But I will say that Sam knew, all the time, exactly what he needed. We just needed to learn to listen to him.
I’ve learned to trust him, to give him space to come to the decision on his own, whatever it is. To give him the safety and security to grow and learn and struggle and dream, and I know that whatever Sam ends up doing in his life, he’s going to do it better than anyone could have imagined. Because this kid is the strongest person I’ve ever met, with a better sense of what he needs and how to make it work, and I am constantly in awe of his ability to handle impossible things, to find a way to make it okay, and to quietly work to achieve his goals.
Happy birthday Sammy – my buddy, my guy, my killer of bugs, and lover of dogs. You are amazing and inspiring, and when you sing ‘It’s Raining Tacos”, it’s the best thing I’ve ever heard.