To my son on his 9th birthday

Dear Kaleb,
I used to write a birthday letter to you and your sisters every year. But when I took a break from blogging, I also inadvertently took a break from penning you your birthday letters. It's been a few years, but I'm officially reinstating the tradition on your ninth birthday.

Every year we ask you what you want to do for your birthday. What meal you want to eat, what gifts you'd like to receive, what kind of party you would enjoy. This year you wanted frosted cake and mango sorbet.You wanted hot dogs and baked beans for dinner. And you wanted new binoculars, music, money, and a trip to Great Wolf Lodge. All your wishes were fulfilled!

At Great Wolf Lodge, you liked the water slides, but hated the lines--so much so that you picked every activity besides the slides. The rest of us were a little disappointed. We couldn't wait to see how you'd react to careening through a plastic, water filled tube on a huge rubber raft. In the days before we went, your sisters and I imagined how much you would love the speed, the splash of water against your face, the big plunge at the bottom. We arrived, and all you wanted was to explore the wave pool, the lazy river, and the hot tub. "What?! Kaleb, come on!" we all cried. After a lot cajoling, you humored us, waited in the dreaded line, and rode down one slide.

"Was it fun?" we asked.
"Yeah!" you exclaimed.
 "Do you want to do it again?" we hoped.
"Nope," you replied. "I hate lines."

By the end of our stay, your sisters devised a plan to stand in line for you, and then one of them would come racing down the long flights of stairs to shout, "We're almost to the top!" And you and I would race to the top, shamelessly squeezing past lines of people that snaked down the stairs. It made your rule-following Mama cringe, but it was totally worth it. "I want to go again!" you exclaimed. And so we did.

If I can say anything about nine, it's that you will not be defined by us any longer. For so long, you have let us decide things for you, let us talk you into activities, let us try to convince you to like what we like--everything from chicken soup to quiet evenings at home. But we are no longer wondering if you are a fan of either. No and no. I love watching your personality shine. It's the same one we've caught glimpses of since we welcomed you into our family. We always knew you loved music, had a great sense of humor, and loved a good party. But now, those traits do not require our support or interpretation any more. No longer are we saying, "Oh, he loves music, or "Look, this is hilarious." Instead, others come to us; they tell us what they see in you and we affirm it. "He loves babies." "He's a great athlete." "He's so kind." Yes, that's our Kaleb. Because you are ours. And as happens right around the age of nine, you are also not just ours. You have your own friends and relationships, your own interests, your own way of being in the world. And while we all four sometimes find ourselves frustrated that we can no longer so easily mold you to our will, I also step back and love that we can't, because that is just as it should be.

As your family, we love inviting you into new experiences, to see what you think of them. A classic Kaleb moment is when we introduce you to a new food. "Hey, Kaleb, try this!" a sister will say. "It's good!" You'll shrug your shoulders and try it. "Yum!" is always your response, but when we ask you if you want more, you'll reply in the same cheery voice, "Nope!" That's when we know you don't really like it. With characteristic good humor, you indulge our whims and set boundaries around them at the same time.

One of your greatest challenges, even at nine, is being understood. We really wish we could make that easier. You want nine-year-old independence, and you are a boy of many, many interesting ideas! But it's still sometimes challenging for us or others to understand what you're saying, and therefore what you mean or want to do. You often look at me with such exasperation in your eyes, and very slowly repeat each word. Other times, you shout it at the top of your lungs. "It's not that I can't hear you," I'll say, "I just don't know what you said. But I'm trying!" When it's not worth it, you flick your hand at me and sigh, then move on. On the other hand, sometimes when Dad or I do understand and still tell you "No," you assume we must not comprehend your incredible idea and that if you just show us what you mean, we'll be on your side. The chaos that sometimes evolves from that assumption is not for the faint of heart! We've stopped many potentially disastrous schemes of yours over the years, but some you still manage to throw into action.

Sometimes I wonder if you'll ever connect your day-to-day challenges to having Down syndrome--a diagnosis we've taught you about and something you know you have. As a family, we talk about the gifts you and your sisters possess, the things that make you unique, and we even sometimes discuss each of your unique challenges. As I get older, I am more and more convinced that our greatest weaknesses are also our greatest strengths. For example, anyone who knows me will tell you I have a terrible sense of time; but it also means I don't mind letting it slip by unheeded to hang with my littles. Daddy is really good at keeping track of time and without him, we'd be late for everything; but it also means he sometimes gets a little rigid with the schedule. In a family, these strengths and weaknesses can bring both balance and aggravation. That's how I think about Down syndrome.

There are beautiful things about your diagnosis, my son. I admire so much your ability to live free, in the moment. Your in-the-moment nature also means you forgive quickly and rarely hold a grudge. I have learned so much from you about letting go of things that are just not that important and about deeply enjoying what's right in front of me. I also know that same quality can prove challenging when it comes to remembering things. Many times you've started to tell us a story, and in the middle of it, you struggle to recall a wanted detail. You'll growl in frustration, we'll try to help you fill in the information, and often we just end up moving on to a different part of your story. On the one hand, that's a struggle; on the other hand, you've learned to adapt and just move past moments like that. It's made you good at getting over frustration quickly.

So far, Down syndrome isn't a negative to you, and I'm grateful for that. I hope it never really is. Life is full of challenges. Like we always say, hard isn't necessarily bad. Hard is just hard. And most often, the challenges we face together make us stronger. Maybe that sounds like a terrible cliche'; but in our house, so far, it's proven true.

Buddy, you've matured so much in just one year--academically, spiritually, physically, emotionally. Everyone notices. And we are so very proud of the you you are busy becoming. But you know what? Some years you might grow and mature by leaps and bounds; other years you might get stuck in certain areas. Either way, it's okay. And here's why-- On your birthday, your teacher read Psalm 139 over you, inserting your name into the appropriate places. Here is part of what she read:

For you created Kaleb's inmost being;
    you knit him together in his mother’s womb.
14 He praises you because he is fearfully and wonderfully made;
    your works are wonderful,
     Kaleb knows that full well.
Kaleb's frame was not hidden from you
    when he was made in the secret place,
    when he was woven together in the depths of the earth.
16 Your eyes saw his unformed body;
    all the days ordained for Kaleb were written in your book
    before one of them came to be.
17 How precious to Kaleb are your thoughts,[a] God!
    How vast is the sum of them!
18 Were he to count them,
    they would outnumber the grains of sand—
    when Kaleb awakes, he is still with you.

















That is the gift of your birth day. A life intentionally and beautifully formed. A boy who is beloved by his Creator, made for this time, this place, this lucky family. You will continue to grow and love and serve those around you. You will continue to grow in the knowledge of the Love that formed you. For that, we celebrate. And for ALL the things that make you, you, we rejoice! Happy Birthday, Bud. We love you all the way to the moon and back.