A Letter to my Son on his 2nd Birthday

Dearest Beckett,

Where have the last two years gone? It seems like just yesterday, I was fighting contractions and a labor very different than your brothers. I had been sent home from the hospital, not yet quite dilated with escalating contractions. I was frustrating, and I was tired. Yet, only thirty minutes later, my water broke. We hurried out of the house with big brother in tow. Your dad sped through the night as I breathed through every contraction. You were ready, and even though I had been telling myself for the past 9+ months that I was too, I suddenly felt so unprepared. I hugged your big brother as I knew it would be the last few moments as a family of three. You came swiftly surrounded by your dad, grandma, aunt and big brother.

You were beautiful. You still are.

We soon realized how much of a fighter you were to become for as the day grew on, you grew more and more sick. You were sick.  You were struggling to breath. You were rushed away from me in the late evening, early morning not quite 24 hours old. I remember not being able to hold you or nurse you as I watched you in the isolette with an oxygen mask on and feeding tube. I was devastated that you were in there. Each day brought more tests and blood work. They did a spinal tap on you when you were a day old to rule out meningitis. Doctors said you were born with a pneumonia, probably the direct result of my being pretty sick, and there you remained in NICU for nearly two weeks.

It was tough. Each day, your  dad and I had to divide and conquer. Your brother didn’t understand why you couldn’t come home even though we tried explaining. While you were in NICU, two babies didn’t get to come home with their parents. Oh how my heart broke for them. You came home healthy, yet we had a new challenge.

You failed your newborn hearing screen.

Fast forward to today. You’re a thriving two year old, full of life, laughter and sass. You were born deaf, even thought there was no history of deafness in the family, and the day after your first birthday, you had cochlear implant surgery. Your activation couldn’t come fast enough.

I still feel bad wishing your first birthday to come so quickly. Selfishly, I couldn’t wait for you to hear. And let me tell you something, you’re an amazing little boy. You came through surgery like a rock-star, and since activation you’ve been thriving.

Absolutely thriving.

You’re talking like any other two year old. Even more than some two year olds, and I’m so dang proud of you.

You’ve overcome so much adversity in your short life already, and you’ve taught me more than I could have ever imagined.

You are becoming more and more independent. Almost too independent, and I think you get that from your brother. You’re seriously the funniest little boy, and you have us all laughing multiple times throughout the day. You’re curly hair is the envy of literally everyone, and that smile melts all who see it.

Your vocabulary is amazing, and you’re picking up sign language pretty easily. You’re also becoming a bit of a daredevil, and it’s clear that you’re pretty fearless. Again, I’m blaming this on your big brother.

I love that you still love to cuddle. I am not a fan of that 2 year sleep regression. 🙂 I’m blaming that on some molars. I’m literally obsessed with that creeper side eye you do. You laugh after you do it because you know it does one of two things: 1) makes people laugh or 2) creeps people out. Either way, you got the reaction you wanted.

You are obsessed with Braxton. Like, you freaking idolize him. You do everything he does, even if it’s naughty. Your sassiness also comes from him.

I’m just amazed by you. You are the epitome of a fighter. You are an overcomer. You are resilient. Relentless and determined.

You are the perfect last addition to our family. I’m so glad I have the opportunity to be your mom. You’ve taught me so much these past two years.

Thanks for being my little rainbow baby.

Love you to the moon and back, sweet Baby Beck.

ps. You are definitely going to be a WWE fighter, you little brut. We love you, but please stop hitting and biting us 😉