Meeting Momastery...

On April 10, 2013, the unthinkable happened.  Out of the blue I found myself in our local emergency room - standing over my son who was in full cardiac arrest.  They got his heart beating again, but told us we should say our goodbyes right then and there.  Luckily, if you want to call it that, they were able to stabilize him enough to call a helicopter to take him to duPont.

When the pilots walked into the room to get Gavin ready for the transport, I took them by the arms and begged them not to let him die on the way.  It wrecked me that I wasn't allowed to fly with him. It would have destroyed me if he died with in the air with two strangers.  The pilots assured me they didn't let kids die on their helicopter.  I wanted to believe them.

Ed and I got in the car to head to the hospital.  That time in between life and death - that helpless feeling not knowing if you'll arrive to find your son alive or gone - it was my own personal hell.  I was so desperate for anything - anyone - to help me.  In the car - in rush hour traffic just to make matters worse - I picked up my phone and sent an email.  This was it...

• me
 
• Apr 10, 2013

To

• Momastery

Hi Glennon
My husband and I are taking the longest car ride of our life after our sweet Gavin went into cardiac arrest after a seizure and was choppered to a hospital. It is very grave.  I know you have a huge army so I was wondering if you could ask them to please pray and send all their positive energy my Gavin's way?  I can't lose him.  I just can't.
Kate

Sent from my iPhone

I only knew Glennon online and through emails.  And I, of course, was a regular reader of her blog, Momastery.  I knew she had many, many followers - and I knew she probably received requests all the time to share things and help people - and I had no reason to believe or expect that she would share my request for prayers - and, to be honest, I wasn't at all sure that prayers would work.  But she did share it - and by the time we got to the hospital it felt like the entire world was behind us.  We rushed up to the ICU where Gavin had been taken and... he was alive.

Today Ed and I were on that same road... but this time, we were driving to meet Glennon.  She was speaking at a church a little over an hour away from our home.  As we drove, I started to reminisce with Ed about that day in April.  As if it was right on cue, a helicopter flew overhead.  It felt, in a way, like a full circle moment for me.

Glennon had reserved seats in the front row for Ed and me, which was so thoughtful and unnecessary!!  The set up was very intimate - it felt like we were sitting in her living room.  

When she came bounding out from behind the curtain - 

- and got comfy and casual, it was clear why they set up the stage the way they did.  Glennon makes ALL of us feel (online AND in person) like we are old friends sitting in her living room.  What happened next was magic.  She talked... and talked.  She shared stories and wisdom.  She was open and honest and humble.  She is so, so humble.  Questions were thrown her way and she answered them effortlessly... eloquently... and energetically.  She is full of so much positive energy!!  After the event was over, there was time for everyone to meet Glennon.  

Ed and I had been sitting a couple chairs away from Craig, Glennon's husband, so we ended up chatting with him for quite a while.  You'll never meet a nicer, more supportive husband.  What a kind, kind person.  It was a pleasure to spend time with him.

Soon I was able to have some time with Glennon.  It was a hug that was years in the making.  

There was only one thing I wanted to tell her in person - the only thing that was important to me.  It was this...

I've had several people ask me if I still believe in the power of prayer - if I still believe that so many people sending positive thoughts can really change anything.  After all - there were thousands upon thousands of people praying and hoping and sending their thoughts our way that April day... yet Gavin still died.

I wanted Glennon to know that, to me, it meant everything.  That day I wrote to her from the car - all I wanted was for Gavin to live until we got to the hospital.  But we got even more.  Gavin lived for four more days.  Four more days that we had to process what was happening... to say goodbye... to bring Brian in to say goodbye... to arrange to donate his organs.  So yes... I do still believe.  And I'll forever be grateful that she chose to share that day and made us feel that we had the world on our side.  On Gavin's side.

It was a great, great day.

Well, there were some "not so great" moments, if I'm being honest.  I wasn't feeling great today.  You know when you have a cold and you just feel... out of it?  That was me today.  Yes... I am sick... AGAIN.  Couple that with my terrible shyness and I probably came off as a dud.  It's also hard for me to wrap my brain around people who are nervous to meet me.  I can assure you - I am generally the MOST nervous person in ANY room!!  At one point, Glennon brought me up on stage to introduce me and I was so embarrassed.  It was so unexpected and unnecessary!  Ed told me later that I looked awkward up there.  Thanks, Ed.  Ha!

I met some really lovely readers (and hopefully didn't leave an "awkward" impression on any of them!).  It is always a great honor for me to meet any of you.  The fact that you spend your own time reading and getting to know my family is extremely humbling to me.  One woman wanted to show me that she had a photo on her phone of her adorable children enjoying Gavin's fire truck in Ocean City.  I'm not sure I'll ever forget that moment.  I never know how to respond or react when I am approached (which is only a minute amount compared to Glennon - I don't know how she does it!!) but I want you to know that it humbles me.

We hadn't checked the weather before we left.  We ended up leaving the building and walking into a snowstorm!  Our trusty minivan got us home in one piece - but it was quite a ride.  The hour drive turned into a three hour tour with some scary moments when we could barely see the roads!  In the end, it was all worth it for an afternoon of "truth telling."

We're coming up on two years since the day the unthinkable happened to us and I reached out to Glennon.  Whether you have been here for years or came here the day that she posted - thank you.  Thank you for the prayers, for the positive thoughts.  Thank you for seeing us through Gavin's death... his funeral... my pregnancy... and the birth of Hope.  When the funeral was over and life resumed... you stayed.  And I'm glad you're here.

And thank you to Glennon and Craig... for caring about our family.  Today was a day I won't soon forget.

p.s. - If you haven't read Glennon's book, "Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed" - I highly recommend it!  

My MamaStory...

This post was originally published on "Momastery" on May 1, 2013.  You can see the original post and all of the comments on Glennon Melton's beautiful blog.  Thank you for the outpouring of love and support and "me toos" I received after this was published.  As you can imagine, it was a big decision to write - and make public.  It turned out better than I ever expected... proving to me, once again, that fears and expectations are often far worse than reality.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Growing up as the youngest of five, I often got lost in the crowd.  

Born with a quiet voice and a sensitive heart, I could barely get a word in at the dinner table and often got my feelings hurt.  In elementary school and even high school, I stayed a quiet observer.  I didn’t fit in any group, really, and most times was okay with that.  I hated watching others get bullied and would often feel compelled to reach out to them.  I think I was born a natural caretaker... but that came with a heavy price.  I learned to take care of everyone but me.

After suffering sexual abuse as an adolescent at the hands of a teacher, I went down a  road of self destruction.  This quiet, tender hearted girl with a big, loving family kept every dark secret inside and tried to slowly self destruct.  My journey included an eating disorder all through high school that nearly killed me... a suicide attempt that nearly broke my parents hearts into a million little pieces... multiple hospitalizations in facilities with the kind of doctors who try to talk you well and medicate you silent... relationships that were wrong on every level - but that conveniently put me in the role of caretaker so I could feel normal while I helped him with his problems... a rape while I was on an overnight as a flight attendant... and alcoholism, which was how I chose to cope afterwards.  I drank for close to five years - and nothing could have made me stop.  Not even my big, loving, accepting family.  But one day I was given a choice - marriage or vodka.  Lucky for me, I had a choice.  Lucky for my family, I chose wisely.  I knew that I always wanted to be married and have children.  And I wanted to do it right.

One would think, in a perfect world, that the story would go on to have a happy ending after this much turmoil and heartache.

Well, that would depend on your outlook, I suppose.

We tried and tried for a baby and found ourselves at the mercy of an infertility specialist.  Soon, with a little help, we were pregnant with twins!  Before we could find out if they were boys or girls, we lost them one by one.  Imagine our surprise a few months later when we naturally conceived - twins AGAIN!!  I held my breath at every ultrasound... until I exhaled into a deep wail when one heart stopped.  I thought for sure the other baby was not far behind - that he wouldn’t survive without his sibling.  I underestimated this baby.  He not only survived a very difficult pregnancy... but he survived a very traumatic birth.  This child is our son, Gavin.  Born with severely low tone, feeding issues and “dysmorphic features” - we did not get a lot of encouraging predictions for his future.  Six days before his first birthday we were told he has Cerebral Palsy.  One of his doctors told me that he didn’t expect that Gavin would ever be able to sit up on his own - his tone was so, devastatingly low and his head was so big and heavy.  This same doctor loves to tell that story every time he sees Gavin - especially now, at 5 1/2 years old, when he confidently walks into the exam room.  I named my blog “Chasing Rainbows” as a testament to how Gavin has defied the odds that were stacked against him.  Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you can’t chase rainbows.  And if they do, remember my sweet little boy.  Along with the Cerebral Palsy, Gavin has an undiagnosed genetic syndrome and will likely need our care his entire life.  

People definitely raised their eyebrows when we were pregnant with our second child.  Gavin was only six months - had just come home after a three month hospital stay for RSV and Botulism - and he was on a feeding tube and oxygen.  After a shaky start (doctors suggested I abort my pregnancy - that the child I was carrying would never make it), Brian was born on a beautiful December day.  Having our boys so close together was the best thing we ever did.  Brian is Gavin’s best therapist... and some days his best friend.  It has been such a joy watching them develop side by side. Unfortunately, I was stricken with Rheumatoid Arthritis shortly after his birth which has been rather difficult.

You would think we’d quit while we were ahead, but we still wanted a third baby for so many reasons.  We worried about Brian.  What if Gavin never talks?  Would Brian be lonely?  What if something happened to us?  That’s a heavy burden for one sibling to carry.  All of these fears and worries led us straight back to the infertility specialist.  It did not go well.  The end total to date - nine miscarriages and the traumatic stillbirth of our beautiful and perfect daughter, Darcy Claire.  She was born after five and a half days in the hospital attempting to deliver her body and arrived just hours before the calendar announced it to be “Mother’s Day” in 2010.

I have absolutely gone down the road of - “Seriously, God?”  And I’ve also gone down the road of - “There must be something wrong with me...something I did to deserve this.”  Why would so many difficult things keep happening to one person?  It doesn’t make sense!! 

Or does it...

I often say on my blog that when Gavin came along, he saved my life.  I want to explain to you why.  The obvious reason is because I was sober a little over a year when I got pregnant.  It definitely kept me on track!  And, after years and years of self absorption and self destruction, isn’t it ironic that I was handed a baby that required ALL of me?  Gavin saved me from myself.

But it was something that was said to me along the way - while I was knee deep in feeding tubes and therapies and serious medical issues with Gavin - that changed my entire outlook.  I had years and years (and years) of therapists - both good and bad (and really bad) that couldn’t bring me to this revelation.

What if you chose your life’s blueprint before you were born?  What if your soul sat with God before you arrived here on Earth and decided what your life should look like... what hardships you should endure... what lessons were the most important for you to learn... how your journey could help others on their journeys?  What if your life’s journey was actually mapped out - by you and God - for a higher purpose?

Just thinking about that changed the course of my life forever and gave me a new perspective when looking in the rear view mirror.  It took me from a place of “why do horrible things keep happening to me?!?!?”  (with a couple WTFs thrown in there) to a place of power.  If I chose to endure hard things in my lifetime - then I chose that for a higher purpose.  I can use all of my experiences for good - and stop using them to shame and punish myself.  I realized that all of these years I had been doing it wrong.  I thought I was taking care of everyone... but since I wasn’t taking care of me in the right way, I really wan’t helping anyone at all!

Glennon often describes herself as a “shameless truth teller.”  That is exactly what we all need to be.  When we let our secrets out - whatever they are - we shake off the shame that’s attached to it.  They say you are only as sick as the secrets you keep.  I was choosing to be sick for so many years.

So, I’m no longer embarrassed about my history.  I’m no longer shameful about the ways I chose to cope with the hand I was dealt.  In sharing my burdens, I hope to ease the burdens of others who might be keeping similar secrets.  But mostly, I see the higher purpose in all of this - to learn.  I have learned without a doubt that I can do hard things.  I have learned that in sharing ALL of myself, I can truly help others.  I have learned that openness leads to healing. I have learned that, for me, writing is my best therapy. (And lucky for me - that therapy is free!) People ask me all the time how I remain so positive amidst so much misfortune.  My answer is - it’s a choice.  I choose to believe that my life is unfolding exactly as it’s supposed to.  And I choose to be an avid student of all the lessons it is placing in my path.  My blog is my “MamaStory” and it’s an honor for me to be vulnerable and open when I know that it can touch someone who needs it.

But the most important part of my “MamaStory” are my sons.  My blog is my legacy to them.  I want them to know that their Mommy was a human being with flaws and tragedies and triumphs and hopefully a little bit of insight.  I want them to know that they can choose how they see their own lives.  That adversity can make them either bitter... or better.  That they won’t have to look far to “find their destiny” because their destiny lies right there in their life’s journey... just like I found my destiny in mine.

And just like you’ll find your destiny in yours.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I wrote this guest post for Glennon and sent it to her on April 3rd - a little nervous as it revealed so much about my personal life experiences.  Eleven days later on my birthday, April 14th, my husband and I said goodbye to our precious son, Gavin.  He suddenly and inexplicably suffered three cardiac arrests after a seizure on April 10th and we were lucky enough to spend four days with him before he died.  During those days we slept with him, sang to him, loved on him and bathed him.  

An incredible Child Life specialist helped his younger brother, Brian, come in to say goodbye in a sweet way.

  Gavin was a helper and a healer - to us and to others - so it made perfect sense to us to donate his organs after his death.  Now, his story has made him a helper and a healer all over the world to so many who have been moved and inspired by his journey.  This little boy who never uttered a word is changing people.  Imagine that.

I thought about this post several times during those days - and drew on my own words for strength.  I delivered a eulogy to Gavin using some of the very words I wrote in this post.  "You truly can find hope and inspiration and important life lessons in your own lives... even when the path seems impossible to walk, like this one for us.  Gavin taught me that.  I'm just the messenger."

This little boy of mine saved my life.  And his story could profoundly change yours.

His Heart Just Kind Of Broke...

It has been a rough couple days for me.  And for Ed.  It's slowly getting more and more real for us as life has the audacity to go on.

Ed has returned to work.

Laundry need to be done.

Brian needs to go to school.

I need to take a shower.

Oh, wait.  I really do need to take a shower.  Some parts of life just don't seem to take a priority at the moment.

Brian is not one of those parts of life.

Last night, on a hunch, I said to Brian - "I want you to know that Mommy and Daddy did NOT want Gavin to go to Heaven."  He just stared at me - still as could be.  I am never sure in his four year old mind what he's thinking.  If he's wondering if we sent Gavin away.  If he's worried that he'll be sent away.  He continued to stare as we sat next to each other in Gavin's bed - Brian's new favorite place to be.

"Mommy and Daddy were very sad that Gavin had to die.  We didn't want him to leave us."

He broke his silence with, "I have allergies."

I knew it.  I suspected that he might associate Gavin's allergies with death.  Right before we got to the emergency room, we were at the acupuncturist who helps us with both boys' allergies.  She was actually the one who taught me the technique that eliminated (yes, eliminated) Brian's peanut allergy.  That morning, in her office, I had shared with her that I was DETERMINED to eliminate their seasonal allergies - especially Gavin's who were pretty bad that morning.  In Brian's mind, they both have allergies - and then Gavin went to the hospital - and he never came home.

"Yes, Brian.  You DO have allergies.  But you don't need to be afraid of your allergies.  Gavin didn't die because of his allergies."

He continued to silently stare.  This is very unlike him - to not be distracted or goofy.  I could tell I was hitting on something important.  I pressed on...

"You know the heart that beats in your chest - and mine?  Your heart is one of the things in your body that keep you alive!" I explained.

"The doctors couldn't give him medicine to fix him so he died," he said.

"No, the doctor's couldn't give him medicine.  His heart stopped beating in his chest - it just kind of broke."

He nodded his little head.

"That's why we are so sad.  And that's why you sometimes see Mommy and Daddy crying.  It's okay to cry - and if you are sad, you can talk to us."

"That's okay, Mommy.  My angry birds make me happy," he assured me.

"Brian, I bet Gavin is so happy that you're sleeping and playing in his room.  You know, you can talk to him anytime and he'll hear you!!  You may not hear him - and you may not see him - but he'll hear you!  Remember how I told you that Heaven's ALL around us - it's everywhere?  Not just in the clouds?"

"Uh huh..."

"That means that Gavin is always around us - he'll always be part of everything we do!"

With that he stood up in Gavin's bed and said, "Hi Gavin!  I love you!  I miss you!"

"Do you think he heard me, Mommy?" he asked with his little voice and his BIG, hopeful eyes.

"Yes.  I definitely think he heard you.  Actually - I KNOW it."

"You can go, Mommy.  Goodnight."

A couple months ago, I was asked to write a guest post on the blog Momastery - the HUGELY popular and inspiring "home" of Glennon Doyle Melton.  Glennon just had her first book published, "Carry On, Warrior - Thoughts On A Life Unarmed" where she writes openly and honestly about her life.  She calls it "shameless truth telling."  Glennon has been changing lives over at Momastery by sharing her truth - and allowing other women, in turn, to feel they don't need to be ashamed of their own truths.  While she's on her book tour, she's having guest writers and I was so, very honored that she asked me to be one of them.  I had just sent her my finished post on April 3rd.

My guest post will be up on her blog tomorrow.  It comes with a warning to those of you who know me well - or who have known me online for years.  Let's just say, if you thought you knew everything about me from my blog - you are in for a surprise.

Many people ask me how I can continue to find the positive when I'm constantly fielding hit after hit, year after year.  Or they wonder how I'm functioning after so much heartbreak.  This will hopefully shed light on that.  But my greatest wish in opening myself up to the world - especially now - is to show everyone that there really is nothing you can't get through.  Even the death of two of your children.

I am living proof.

(Like Momastery's facebook page - or check my Facebook page and I will update you when it's posted.)

One last thing... our little buddy, Miles, had a very successful liver transplant and is doing well.  His Mom and I are in frequent contact and I'm starting to think we are long lost sisters.  With her permission, I am sharing their CaringBridge page so that you can check in on Miles and express your support in her guestbook.  I think all of us will always feel a special connection to Miles.  And I know I speak for all of you when I say how relieved we all are that he got his liver.  Now we pray that the next month goes well and the liver falls in love with it's new, adorable home.

A Funny Thing Happened On The Way...

This past weekend has been a head trip... in a good way and a not so good way.

The not so good way had me slightly obsessed and paranoid about this Parents Magazine Blog Contest.  Many times over the weekend I was checking numbers - how many new visitors?  What is my vote percentage?  And I was feeling very paranoid about my writing.  I mean come one, the other nominees have books and newspaper columns and millions of readers and...well...they use correct grammar and punctuation.

The not so good way had me feeling under pressure about my content.  As I replayed old blog posts over the weekend, I fretted about today's entry.  And tomorrow's.  And next month's.  Should I stop posting day to day things?  About getting ready for a consignment sale... or Gavin's new shoes... or Brian's snack choices... or our butterfly experiment?  Is this post or that post "tissue worthy?" Do I need to be deeper?  Expose more of myself? Be... different??

But as the weekend went on, I realized many things... about this "contest," about the other nominees and about me.

They chose me before I even knew I was being considered.  That was what I had to keep telling myself all weekend.  The editors at Parents Magazine didn't choose me for what they thought I might turn out to be.  They didn't choose me for how my writing may change.  They chose me for who I am today and the stories I tell about our real life.  (Because let's face it - you can't make this crap up!)

Over the weekend, I delved into each of the other nominees blogs.  Suddenly they weren't "the competition" anymore.  I found myself reading Jo Ashline's entries out loud to Ed as we were lying in bed.  Her post "And a Little Child Shall Lead Them" reminded me so much of my relationship with Gavin and spirituality.  Jo and I corresponded several times over the weekend and I already feel like I met an old friend.  And Deanna's blog about her two children found me relating left and right.  Her daughter has Down's Syndrome and her younger son is very close in age - much like Gavin and Brian.  Her post, "The Milestone Competition" had me nodding the whole time.  I remember how bittersweet it was to watch Brian soar past Gavin in that department.  I feel like the whole world is aware of Glennon Melton over at Momastery - she's an extraordinary person and blogger.  She has written many posts that have gone viral, but her post called "Fourteen" is my all time favorite.  It's one I think about often - even months and months after I originally read it.  I remember my struggles with an eating disorder and it was like she had written my words.  Finally, there's Dan.  A single Dad who I wasn't sure I'd relate to much at all - but I was sucked in, as millions monthly are, and clicked on the post that summed up this whole experience for me.  It's called "The Disease Called : "Perfection" and I hope you'll read it.  His main message?  Be real.

Be real.

So the time I spent worrying about changing for a new group of people that may never come or stay was wasted.  I need to just stay me.

I'll still report when the boys get impossibly adorable buzz cuts...

And when they have visitors - like our former helper, Miss Katja, who we love...

I'll still write about Gavin's progress and post unbelievable and inspiring videos of simple things like this...

...and tell you that this Wednesday, Gavin will complete his "5K Marathon" at school.  I'm charging my camera batteries as I type this.  There is going to be a big celebration as he walks the final leg in the school hallway.  You won't want to miss it!!

And I'll keep you up to date on my Mom as she sells the family home and creates a new life after losing my Dad.  

We were all at the house this past weekend helping her with some things.  I took this photo of Gavin near the top of the stairs and didn't expect it to come out looking like it did.  But when I looked at it, it took my breath away.  This child has such a bright future ahead of him.  I just know it.

I was lucky enough to bring home this desk from my parent's basement.  I used this desk as a kid and spent many hours playing "school."  It's so sweet to see my little boy enjoying it now.

So yes... a funny thing happened on the way to today.  I realized that this "competition" has changed many things.  It has brought new friends into my life.  It has increased Gavin's exposure to the world and, in my eyes, could possibly bring him closer to someone recognizing his diagnosis.  It has exposed me to new blogs that are written by wonderful people that I could learn so much from.  And, most importantly, it has reminded me how important it is to stay true to myself.

To just be real. 

 Thank you, as always, for loving our family like you do.

Welcome to New Readers...

The past 24 hours have been overwhelming.  Since I was nominated by Parents Magazine in their Best Parents Blog Awards, I've been completely humbled by the outpouring of attention and love.  Glennon Melton from the wonderful blog, Momastery, endorsed little old me, which blew me away.  Today alone I had 27,899 page views.  It's only four o'clock in the afternoon.  Overwhelming.

Better than that... I have received seven emails so far from parents who were touched by a post or our story and wrote to thank me for giving a voice to their feelings.  For showing them that they're not alone.  And now I feel like I've been given this gift - to reach even more parents.  I love sharing my attitude with others so they can see that they really can get through this life in one piece, no matter what obstacle is thrown in their way.  If those seven women are changed for the better in just one small way, I will have won this "contest" in my eyes.  

Since there are so many new friends here, I thought this weekend I would re-post some of my most important journal entries.  The ones that meant a lot to me.  The ones that really show who I am - and how we love here.

I'm grateful today, as I always am, for every person that spends their precious time getting to know our family here.  I hope you stay long enough to witness the miracles.

*************

I wrote this post the night before Gavin's very first day of school.

**************

This was the first time I got to hold you - really hold you - after you were born.  

And each day thereafter for the thirty days you were in the NICU.  

And all day and most of the night when you came home.

When it was just you and me, I would whisper promises in your tiny ears.  I promised that I would always try to figure things out for you.  Figure out what you needed.  Figure out the best way to help you.  Figure out the best doctors to see you.  Figure out the ways you liked to be entertained.  What made you smile...what made you sleep...what motivated you. 

I promised that I would always be your student.  I would research and learn and and figure out feeding tubes, hearing aids, genetic syndromes and all the medical issues that would crop up along the way.  But mostly, I would let you lead.  I knew that you would teach me all I really needed to learn.  And you have.  You were a patient and gentle teacher - perfect for this first time Mommy.

You and I have been a great Mother/Son team for the last 4 years, 10 months and 29 days. (I guess it's a good thing I stopped making these monthly signs at year 2!)

I have fought fiercely for you along the way and so far have been able to get you just about everything you needed - or we've been told you needed.  I've made decisions that I believed were in your best interest, some that weren't very popular - like not succumbing to the pressure to have a G-Tube placed or letting your bare feet feel the floor and not feel braces all day long or keeping you home from pre-school last year so you could get stronger.  I've been in your face a lot - and given you space to play and be 'you' a lot, too.

I have been very protective of you.  Making sure people around you wash their hands.  Not allowing shoes in the house out of respect for you - who spends most of your happy time on the floor.  Being hypervigilant of other people's sniffles and sneezes and keeping you far away.  The two of us even donned "Swine Flu Masks" when we went out in public during that outbreak.  Yes, I am pretty over protective.  And proud of it.

  

But when your body was weak and you were in trouble, we healed together.  I've never left your side.

This Mother-Son dance has been a learning experience for both of us.  And even though you led the dance - I chose the song.  And I did the singing.  But all of that is about to change.

Tomorrow morning, I will watch you get onto a bus.  And that bus will drive away.  Starting tomorrow, you will begin to have experiences that don't include me.  I will be told what you did that day by someone else.  I will read notes about your therapy sessions.  There will no longer be thousands of photos a day.  (Note to self:  invest in a long, zoom lens and find a good tree outside of the school)

We will be reinventing us, Gavin.  I will still be your dance partner at home...with the songs I've always sung and the moves I've always had. 

But I know that you will come home each day with new favorite songs and new favorite moves and, once again, I will be happy to let you lead.  It is very hard for this Mommy to watch you go.  Hard for me to give up my job of "keeping you safe...happy...healthy...and progressing" as well as I can.  Hard for me to think that I'll miss a "first" or a laugh.  Hard for me to imagine that I won't be there to comfort you if you're sad or hurt.  But I know this is the right thing for you - and I know that we will both be fine.  I feel it in my heart.  This is right.

As you go to school and meet the first of many teachers you will have from now on...

...I want you to know that you are the best teacher that I've ever had.

I love you so much, Gavin David Leong.

Love, Mommy