Shared this on my Facebook page last night and fitting to start this letter:
Ten years ago this month, a surprise pregnancy ended and I was overwhelmed with grief. Two years later, on January 15th, I suffered yet another loss and I was not confident I would ever be a mother. But one year after that, this precious gem arrived in his perfect timing — in January on the 15th. If you need proof that miracles exist, I know they do. Because mine turns eight tomorrow.
“Hope is being able to see that there is light despite all of the darkness.” ~Desmond Tutu
Learning about you almost nine years ago now seems like a lifetime away, but if I scrunch my eyes tight, I can still envision being in that hospital room as everyone gathered around to hear about your (much later than anticipated) arrival. A long day, intense pain, and the promise that you would be hear soon – your birth day was filled excitement, freezing temperatures, and loads of anticipation. And you are everything we prayed for.
You are intensely kind and generous and always thinking of your fellow man. You recently expressed volunteering at our church’s food truck and we battled snow and ice to get there, but you were so blessed by your time there. It was worth every second.
You are sensitive, but strong — in tune with how others are feeling and love making people feel loved. You love veggies, salads, and more. You are partial to The Office (and perhaps it was the “That’s What She Said” shirt I gave you at a young age) and Pokemon has captured your heart. You love writing letters, being creative, and drawing/art class.
Your dance moves are wild and unabandoned and you have fun wherever you go. You are the life of the party, but also quietly observant. You march to the beat of your own drum and you don’t often dwell on what others think. Sparkles and glitter with a dash of rainbows — you know what you want and embrace it with confidence.
You are magical. I often talk about how uniquely YOU you are — but it’s true. You are something extra special – with your giving heart and willingness to give everyone a chance — something we could all stand to learn from.
May 8 be a reminder of just how loved you are and just how much you have changed the landscape of our lives. You are our miracle and a constant reminder of everlasting hope.
We love you, Charlie Bear!