Ten years ago today I became a mother for the first time. We welcomed your big sister, Alyssa, into this world.
We held her, we loved her, but there was nothing we could do to protect her. She was born with too many problems. 10 years ago tomorrow we had to say goodbye.
But this letter isn't about her. It's about you.
You may not always like it, but we do what we can to protect you.
We buckle you into carseats.
We make you wear a helmet when you ride bikes.
You wore floaties in the pool until we knew you could swim (then we still watched you like a hawk!).
We buy a net for the trampoline, so you don't fall off and break your neck.
We hold your hand as you cross the street.
We keep a good eye on you and do not let you wonder too far when we are shopping, or at the zoo, or anywhere else in public... because we need you close to protect you from strangers.
We will put you in time out when you do not listen, so you can learn from your mistakes.
We warn you not to climb on the towel rack because it might fall, and you could hit the head on the way down and need stitches. See what happens when you don't listen?! You just thought we were joking!
We make you do these things because we know about the dangers of life.
Because we love you.
Because we never want to lose you, like we lost your sister.
Because we never want you to suffer that pain, when it could be avoided.
But pain is how we learn and grow. So we will not protect you from everything. We will not wrap you in bubble wrap.
You will have days where you lose.
You will still fall on your bikes.
And at the playground.
But I promise let you be a kid, and experience life and joy without fear of those little things.
And we will pray for you.
We do all of these things because we can't imagine tomorrow without you.
Because we love you.
Please check out more 'Letters to our sons' - the next stop our blog chain is Kelly Roth Patton!
