13

Owen, today, July 28, 2022, you turn 13 years old. In honor of your birthday, and to mark this important milestone, I wanted to pen this letter to you.

Thirteen years ago today at a little before 6:00 in the morning you were born and our journey through life together began. I would like to say the first moment I held you was special, but it really wasn’t. I was exhausted and just wanted to sleep. Afterall, I had been in labor for approximately 30 hours and it took 4 hours of pushing before you arrived. I was glad when they took you from me so I could get some sleep. I feel terrible saying that, but it’s the truth. Childbirth is no joke. I marvel at new mothers posting pictures of themselves and their babies shortly after giving birth and they are smiling and looking fabulous. That was not the case for me. I looked and felt like I had been run over by a Mack truck over and over again.

I remember the day they released us from the hospital to go home. I did not want to go; I was petrified. They gave us a little pamphlet to take home which was supposed to tell us how to take care of you. Really? They give you more information when you drive a new car off the lot than they do when you take a little human home. I wondered to myself how is this going to help me keep this little human alive?

Over the next few months we developed a routine and we started to get the hang of taking care of you. While I was on maternity leave, we took long walks, went to the mall, and did all kinds of things together. We were starting to feel more at ease with taking care of you. Then the other shoe dropped. On Wednesday, November 25, 2009, you had your first seizure. On that date, our lives changed forever.

During your first year of life, rather than marking developmental milestones, we were documenting the number of seizures you were having daily. Prior to the start of your seizures, I religiously consulted my “What to Expect The First Year” book to see what I could expect to see as far as your development from month to month. I stopped doing that after your seizures began because all that you had gained prior to the start of your seizures was slipping away. Your first year was difficult, filled with countless seizures and hospital stays.

Shortly after your first birthday, we received news that you were a candidate for brain surgery that was supposed to take the seizures away forever. Although this surgery would leave you with permanent deficits, we were told it should cure your seizures and you would be able to adapt to these deficits over time. This was to be your best shot at a somewhat normal life. Unfortunately, just weeks after your surgery, the seizures returned, and we continue to live with them to this day.

I’m not going to lie, my sweet boy, life has certainly been difficult these last 13 years. There has been so much worry and so many struggles. There have been so many new things we’ve had to learn to keep you alive and there have been times when I’m sure we were close to losing you. As difficult as it has been, however, we would not trade our life with you for the world. The world is a much better place for us with you in it.

During the last 13 years, we have learned what is really important in life. We have met so many wonderful people we would have never met had it not been for you. We have witnessed you greeting each day and each person you meet with your signature smile; always happy and positive despite the bad hand that life has dealt you. You have made us learn and grow and become better people.

As you grow older, it is difficult to see where you are at in comparison to your peers. While they are all spreading their wings and becoming more independent, you still must rely on us for everything. We are still changing your diapers, feeding you and getting you dressed in the morning, just like we did when we brought you home from the hospital. Instead of worrying about sending you off in the world in a few years like other parents, we’re worrying about who will care for you after we’re gone.

Enough of these sad thoughts, because today is a day to celebrate. Today is the anniversary of the day you graced us with your presence. The day you changed our lives forever. While there may be some things we are missing out on by having a special boy like you, there are benefits that I guarantee other parents of 13 year old kids aren’t getting. You still like to us give hugs and don’t care who sees you do it. You still smile when you see us, and don’t look the other way and pretend like we don’t exist. You still want nightly cuddles from us before bedtime, which we treasure. We promise you cuddle time will continue for as long as you want it and for as long as we have breath in our lungs; even if you get too big to sit on our laps. We’ll just have to sit side by side and cuddle then.

Happy 13th Birthday, Owen! Mom and Dad love you.