Happy 6th Birthday Luke: It’s All About the Love

For years, I have said, “I wish I could just freeze this age.” But after our school experienced two very tragic losses to children in as many weeks and we prepare for another family to lose a mom to cancer, I’m realizing what I desire most for my children has changed:

to grow up, seek new adventures, love God and live a fruitful life

It’s time for my usual letter to the birthday kid, so here goes.

Dear Luke,

With each passing year, I’m grateful that the emotional scars from your premature birth fade, just as your physical ones do. Always there, but less present upon first glance. I’m seeing a little boy, happily swimming in the pool before I notice the three large scars that mark his belly and spine. I’m focusing on his crazy morning hair before I sneak a peek at the incision from brain surgery.

And you know what? It’s been an awesome year with you.

You finished pre-k like a rock star, mastering more fine motor skills like cutting, coloring and writing. Socially, you have always been ahead of the game. You are your mother’s son. You’re still the teeny, tiniest kid in the class, but I don’t think you seem to notice. You’ve made friends with all the big kids, so you’ve got some pretty stellar body guards. Although, with your fight and tenacity, I’m not too worried.

When you get tickled, you have this hilarious laugh. It’s part giggle, part deep breath. Boy is it funny. Your older brothers and sisters try to do things to get you to laugh just so they can hear it.

Cars are still your *most* favorite toy of all time. I’m pretty sure you would play with them 24 hours straight if we let you. I find them in your bed, under your pillow, in the underwear drawer, your backpack, stuck between the couch cushions and wedged in just about every area of the minivan. They’re like your American Express card, “never leave home without them.”

You have a temper and boy is it hot. Perhaps I should call it passion. You care deeply about lots of things and when the world doesn’t go your way, we usually give it five minutes, let you scream it out and then we’re back to baseline and ready to greet the day.

We finally whittled the specialist list down from 12 to 5. I feel like we’ve hit the jackpot. The latest one to bite the dust? Craniofacial. As much as we loved Dr. C, it sure is nice to cross another one off the list.

Readings books at bedtime is one of your favorite things to do. In fact, I’m not sure I’ve met a better staller when it comes to bedtime, than you. If it were an Olympic sport, you would be the gold medal winner. Earlier this year, we switched rooms for you and Will, moving you in with John Paul and giving Will his own space. Honestly, we crossed our fingers because you were such a terrible sleeper and because the thought of putting NICU kid with ER kid didn’t seem like the best of ideas. Then, overnight, you found your groove and started sleeping like a champ. I think you just wanted a buddy. Fortunately, no hospital visits have been clocked. Yet.

This fall, you started kindergarten. {sigh} It was a beautifully hard day, but one I prayed for on our darkest days with you. And look at you, all big and funny and strong and capable and happy. It is such a gift to see you so happy to bound off to school each day. The bigs take turns walking you in. Seeing y’all hand in hand as you walk in the school doors is the highlight of my morning.

In many ways, I feel like a new chapter has started for our family, especially you. While I miss you so very much during the day – your giggles and your funny personality – I know you are where you were mean to be. You’re growing up kiddo, and I couldn’t be happier.

Happy birthday big man. We love you!

Mom