Wednesday, November 20, 2013

Dear Spencer,

You were once a tiny baby, who cried and cried. I had to do the funniest rocking dance on a repetitive loop to shush your overstimulated brain and allow the calm to overtake you. Even at your fussiest, your baby days seem so much less complicated.

Tonight I learned you have big boy problems in the big scary real world, and oh how I wish I could wrap you up in my arms and do the funny rocking dance to shush the problems away. But this is just the beginning, Buddy. It's a big, mean world out there. I wish you didn't have to know this fact, but it's true.

Tonight I listened to you talk to me in your little boy voice about how your friends at school won't let you play with them. I doled out advice calmly and assertively, trying to reassure you that this thing is really no big deal. But the truth is, Cub, it breaks my heart. I wish we lived in a world where everyone played nice.

Tonight, as you laid under the quilt I made you in your little boy bed, I heard you talk about how the kids at school are labeling things and chastising you for not conforming to those labels. I tried to erase their words from your memory, telling you that toys are neither boy or girl. I've created a world for you here in our family where gender lines are blurred. I'm sorry if that doesn't translate into the real world, Buddy, but oh how I wish it did.

Tonight I heard in your own words how it breaks your heart that a friend that you adore so much just pushes you away. I shared with you my own experiences where friends broke my heart, and I tried to offer up the best advice I could, when really I wanted to weep. I wish all kids were created equal, sweet, sweet boy of mine.

Tonight I saw you as a person aside from me, and I tried my best to separate us; but it's too hard because you're mine and I'll always want to protect you. The other day my heart sank to the floor when I learned a kid had teased you about your stutter. The real kicker is that you laughed and called them your friends. You didn't know, Spencie, that they were being mean--pure evidence that your heart is still pure, and oh how I wish I could keep it that way for always.

Tonight as we sat in your dark bedroom, I realized that you've really just begun your journey, and this is but a little speed bump along the way. Soon enough you'll have issues that can't be resolved with hugs and kisses and proclamations. I don't like this realization much, Bud. I prefer you to be that crying baby, where all I need to do is the funny rocking dance to make the world right again.

But you have me, always. And I love you so.


  1. Heartbreaking that at such a young age he had to experience that. We have dealt with a fair share of bullying already and Rhys is only 7 ( inappropriate touching on a school bus and his wrist was sprained by another boy at school are two of the larger issues) It is scary. I wish we could keep them safe in a little bubble of innocence. I'm sorry he had to deal with that! It makes me so angry how cruel people and children can be. Hang in there Angie! We just gotta keep showing them the good in the world and make sure they grow up to be kind and compassionate men!

    1. It is tough and heartbreaking, Tasha!! It's so hard to just stand by and let my kids navigate this mean world without me, but I'm trying my hardest to instill in them a good solid ground to stand on so they can push through it without compromising themselves in the process.