I can't believe it's tomorrow...

A year tomorrow. And today’s the day I need to write this while I’m not a blubbering crazy person.

Maddox Man,
Words cannot describe how much I love you. You are my sweetness. You are Hudson’s sweet baby brother. You are what makes us 4. I have had such mixed emotions about your birthday. I’ve had overwhelming happiness because we survived a year. I am so giddy that we are able to celebrate this day with you. I’m hoping you aren’t over stimulated and that you can feel the love that everyone tries to pour over you because I am so looking forward to your party and celebrating with everyone who is so emotionally and prayerfully invested in your life. I am elated. We’re here! You’re ONE!

But, my sweet boy, I must say it’s bittersweet. I long for a normal first birthday. My heart will ache when you don’t smash a cake or pull out tissue paper. My whole being wishes that this day could be different for you. Instead of normal year old milestones you have had a list of triumphs all your own. You aren’t toddling, cruising, or even standing. And if I’m honest, that sucks. It sucks that you still can’t hold your head up. But, I’ve handed that over to the only One who can cure those things. I’ve read that mommas of special needs kids mourn the child that could have been. Maddox Ray – always know that I don’t care who you could’ve been. I am daily trying to focus on the beautiful boy you are for us right now. Do I have big dreams for you? Good grief, you betcha. But, will I dwell on the woulda coulda shouldas? No sir. Always know that we are proud that you’re ours. I am proud for every small mini-milestone that you conquer.

On your first birthday I find myself thinking back. I was so scared for you. (some days I still am) I hated the nicu days but yet I loved them. I hated seeing you like that. Those visions of you will forever be in my mind like permanent fixtures. But, without those still frames, I wouldn’t truly appreciate all you do now. I used to fear that you’d never move your legs, that your eyes wouldn’t work, that you wouldn’t know me. I worried that you’d never smile or that you’d need oxygen at night. I hurt when you hurt and in the beginning I felt like you were always in pain. I fear seizures and you never tasting food. I fear you never knowing the joys of friends, love, and truly knowing God. With each fear, heartache and empathy pain I’m reminded that in Romans it says that “The pain that you’ve been feeling can’t compare to the joy that’s coming.” Ain’t that some truth? Because each day no matter how bad the day was before, you and Hudson find some way to show us what true joy is.

Everything fades. Every negative disappears the second I hold you. The minute you sink in to me and calm down, I know that all this will pass. Like Joyce Meyer said, “Courage is fear that has said it’s prayers and decided to go forward anyways.” Will more hardships come? I’m sure of it. But we will continue to carry you forward. We won’t look back. Every day is a new challenge for our family.  You’ve overcome a lot, little Miracle of Mine and the sky truly is the limit for you. You’ve taught me just what true pettiness is and how to not let myself get enveloped in that. Through your journey I’ve learned that some stuff just isn’t important. I love the smile on your face and the light in your eyes.

I love knowing that God’s not done with you yet. He’s not done with any of us.

Here’s to many more years, surprises, and teeny tiny victories that mean the world to this momma. I love you my little nugget. I love you with all that I am.

-Momma