Then came eight.

Dearest Spencer,

Today was a bit chaotic, I know, as is always the case the day before your birthday. Halloween brings a hustle and bustle and excitement amongst children all around us, and I wonder sometimes if you feel like your birthday gets a little overlooked because of it.

But dear son, let me assure you, it does not.

Yes, Halloween is widely celebrated, and the world doesn't necessarily realize that your big day follows right after.

But, in my mind, the crazy holiday cannot compare in the slightest to your birthday.

You see, my dear boy, the day you were born was monumental for so many lives- but especially for you and for me.

That was day that you made me a mommy, you know. I had prayed and waited for it for years.  And then it happened.  And you captured my heart with your very first breath.

Spencer, you still have my heart in the palm of your hand.

I know we've had a bit of a rough spot lately.  I am so sorry for that. I know I've been exhausted, stressed, and not as much fun as you would probably like.  I am so sorry.   Life has us so busy lately.

But I also know that you're growing up, so big and so fast.  You've begun showing and sometimes outright telling me that you're looking for more independence.  You've left the itty bitty kid phase, and are transitioning so quickly out of the little kid phase straight on to being a big kid.  It's hard on my heart when I realize it, but I try not to let you know.  It's little things, like wanting to watch kid shows and not cartoons, reading chapter books and books without as many pictures, or the other day, when you asked if you could play with some "new friends"....

across...

the...

street..............................................


And I said yes.  And I let you go.  Sure, I peeked out the window and watched you cross the street, but I didn't let you see that.

But that was a huge moment for me.  It's when it really dawned on me that you are growing up, and you're gaining independence, and needing me less.

Or even maybe... a little... as much as I hate to say this or think about it...

wanting to be with me less.

*gulp*

I've realized over the past year that you prefer to talk to other people over me sometimes.  When I ask you about your day, it seems like you don't have much to say to me.  But if someone else were to ask, there are many details that dance out on your voice.

I know.

You're becoming a big kid.  And I'm not as cool as I once was.

And that's normal.

And that's okay.

Even though it's not okay with my heart.

I have to trust that you will always know that I'm cool enough to trust, to lean on, to rely on, to need, to enjoy, to love.

You're entering into this weird world that I don't completely understand.  I grew up in a small town, went to a small school, and I'm a girl.  You're a city boy.  It's silly, but sometimes I don't feel like I can relate to certain aspects of your life.  I'm trying though.

Just like I try to pretend I know what you're talking about when you start talking about Star Wars.

Your interests are changing and sometimes I don't have a clue because they don't line up with mine at all.  I hope that you know that doesn't mean I don't care.  I just don't always understand. But I try, and when I can't, I try to find you someone who might have more knowledge than I do.

You're still figuring out who you are.  I'm being patient as I see who you become, and I pray that you're being patient with yourself.  That's one thing I completely relate to, even now, as an adult.  It's a lifelong discovery, and we all need more than a little grace.

While there's so many things changing in your life, there are still so many that remain constant.

Like your good, kind, caring heart.

Your hilarious sense of humor (although I will admit, the made up 'knock knock' jokes are a little much to handle sometimes).

You're adventurous and brave.

You love God.

You love others.

You love seeing your siblings at the end of the day and you always greet them with huge smiles and hugs on the days we meet on the school playground.

You are incredibly smart. Your teacher showed me your standardized test scores, remember, and you did amazing. 

You're honest about your opinion and thoughts on things.  Sometimes, I prefer not to know that you think I look silly or am being embarrassing, but at least you're truthful.

You're a little emotional, and trying to figure out how to handle that.  But, you know what, I can't blame you there, because again, I am too.  You don't like to be alone.  While these might seem like they aren't entirely positive to you, and maybe a little stressful to both of us at times, I appreciate them deeply, because they show me you're still a little kid inside, and we still have a lot of this journey toward big to get through.

I pray that over the next year, you continue to give yourself grace as you continue to figure out who you are in this world.  I pray that you'll continue to make good, wholesome, positive friendships, and that you will continue to tell me when people aren't being kind to you, even if it means you're crying.  Then, I can build you up and remind you how much I love you and how great you are.  I know those moments hurt your heart though, because they hurt mine, too.

I pray that you'll continue to and renew your love for school. I know second grade isn't "as fun" as kindergarten and first but I also know that you love to learn, and I believe that you'll enjoy your educational career just as I did.

I pray that you'll give yourself brief moments of reprieve when you're frustrated, and pause before you speak.  Once you say something, you cannot take it back.  But don't be too hard on yourself about this right now, it's something adults struggle with, too.

I pray your heart will continue to grow in your love for others and the world.  I pray that you'll continue to be a light in dark places, and show the love of Jesus to those around you.  You are amazing at this.  

I pray you'll start hearing God's voice, clearly, regularly, and that His truth can come to you directly, as well as through me.  I cannot wait to see what he has in store for you.  I believe it will be big.

And, I pray that you will never doubt your worth.  I pray you will never doubt how wonderful you are.  You are perfect in God's image, and you are one of the very best things that has ever happened to me.  You teach me more about life and love than you'll ever know.  I pray you will never question how deeply you are loved.

In that regard, I also pray that you never determine your self-worth and your value based on the absence of someone who we both feel should be around, telling and showing you that he loves you.  On some level, it's a relief to me that you don't mention your dad as much anymore, but mostly, it breaks my heart for you that his lack of interest and involvement in your life has become so ordinary.  I will not spoil your birthday with my anger, but I am angry for you, and your siblings, that he's missing yet another year, and another birthday.  But, just because he is still gone, it has no merit as to who you are, how important and wonderful you are, or anything of the sort.

I pray that, as we continue to navigate this world together, learning as we go, we continue to have patience for one another in unchartered waters.  It's always new territory for both of us, but we are in it together.  That's the blessing of our bond, first child of mine.

And I pray for ever increasing joy, and that you never lose that sparkle in your eyes and that jubilant echo in your laughter.

Spencer, I love you.

I love you more than you'll ever know.  

Happy Birthday in the morning, buddy.  That day is better than any dress-up holiday this world could ever offer you.

-Mom

Leaving the Haunted House

Call me a party pooper.

Halloween is not my favorite. I don't know the last time i really looked forward to Halloween. I know my children love it, so I pretend to. Actually, up until today when one of them heard me tell a friend I don't like Halloween, they all believed I thought it was as fun as they did.

When my due date for my oldest was announced to be November 2, I told my former husband that if the baby was born in Halloween instead, I would change the date on the certificate. I also told him that I would hold the baby in as hard as I could if I was in labor that day just to avoid it.

Fortunately, my oldest son was induced the morning of November 1, and born that evening.  Problem averted.

In 2011, my son was an elephant and his best baby friend a rhinoceros. In 2012, I had a Woody (from Toy Story) toddler, and a baby dragon/dinosaur, and the aforementioned friends was Buzz Light-year. In 2013, we brought Spider-Man and Superman to (the much overrated, in my opinion) Zoo Boo.

In 2014, I had an almost four-year-old, a two-year old, and a six month old.

And we celebrated Halloween by living out a nightmare.  Two weeks prior, on my birthday, we were served a short-notice eviction because my now former-husband had bailed on his wife and children, not paying any bills like he had promised, while he insisted it was okay for me to continue being a stay-at-home-mom.

I have never been angry at our former landlords.  Let me say that outright.  They did what they had to do for the good of their own family, and I've never had any ill thoughts toward them.

But, for me and my children, it was a nightmare.  It was brought on by my own naivety, trust in my husband, and mother-to-three-littles-in-survival-mode blindness, as well as all of the ways my childrens' father abandoned us, lied to us, and screwed us over.

For two weeks, I tried as best as I could to figure out what to do and where to go.  He wasn't worried at all, couldn't be bothered or concerned to help us.  It was awful.  For two weeks, I tried to keep the children's heads above water, the children fed and clothed and healthy, and start boxing up, and sorting out the pieces of our broken lives, dividing things between their dad and I, and trying to stay breathing while I felt like the world was closing in on us.

Halloween came, and it was our last day in the house.  The house that I thought we would spend years in, raising our family, happy, together.  But instead, it was dreary and cold, and while I was surrounded by a handful of caring friends and family who were helping us pack up, move into a storage shed that some friends gifted us, and into our other friend's small apartment so we had a roof over our heads while I found a job... I felt abandoned, alone, and haunted.  

I felt haunted in my own house.  Haunted by the promises, haunted by the joy, haunted by the love, haunted by the memories, haunted by the vision of the life I had for all of us... watching it silently play in my mind as I walked around the house like a zombie trying not to feel so that I wouldn't cry.  I was being assaulted by the betrayal, the lies, the letdown, the heartbreak, the manipulation, the confusion, the worry, the wonder, the... everything.  

And he was there, haunting me too.

He too was walking around, room to room, putting things in random places, barely making eye contact, not really saying a word, pretending I didn't exist.  We all walked on glass and eggshells as we moved along, trying to figure out what in the world was going on.

And then, just like that, we left.  I had all I needed and did all that I could before I couldn't do anything else anymore.

We walked out of that haunted house for the very last time.  My friend and I, wanting to let the children still celebrate and have some Halloween "fun" amidst all of their own confusion, went to the mall. That year, the boys wore those "skeleton" t-shirts as their costumes, because I just didn't care.  We didn't have the energy or the desire to really dress up, so that was that.  Norah wore a similar pajama.  Truth be told, then and to this day, I despise those shirts and dresses and pajamas that make it look like you're a walking x-ray.  I don't think I'll ever be on board and I still can't stand seeing them to this day, partially because of the trauma of the year my children walked around wearing on their clothing how I was feeling inside my soul.  

On Halloween 2014, we left that haunted house and headed for the mall

.  But the haunting remained.  For four years.

Since then, we've made new traditions for Halloween that have helped to veil the haunting.  Three years in a row, we went to our church trunk or treat (but unfortunately, it is not occurring this year) with our new, adopted and beloved church family, as well as the children's aunt and uncle here in town.  Then we go to their aunt and uncle's house, trick-or-treat the neighborhood a bit, before staying at their house a while to celebrate Spencer's birthday a few hours early.  This year, we will still be doing most of that, with a Storm Trooper, a Ninja Turtle, and a pretty purple butterfly.

Four years from this Wednesday will be the Halloween we left the graveyard of our life as we knew it behind.  I didn't even realize that it was still haunting me at all, until this evening, when talking with my sister-in-law about how fortunate we are that we have these new traditions that we all love and can look forward to.

That's when I realized how much I dislike Halloween, and what the deeper, hidden reasons behind that are.  It's not just that I personally don't like dressing up, going to strangers' homes, getting random candy (that my children rarely eat all of because I hide it and then throw it away around Easter), and all that. 

Yes, it's that.

But it's also that it's just another milestone, one that brings me back to walking out of that home, that house, the one I walked out of while being haunted by everything I thought my life had been, the confusion surrounding what was real and what was not real, feeling like I had lost my mind, and feeling my heavy heart smashed into the wooden floor while the air was being sucked out of my lungs.

It brings me back to being terrified, but having to remain calm.  Saying goodbye, and trying never to look back.

This year, I've leaving the haunted house.  Tonight, when I go to bed, I'm praying to break off the lingering trauma and the haunting that's still in my heart, surrounding that night four years ago.

This Halloween, I pray that when I lay my head down in my bed at night, I won't see the walls of the other house in my mind at all.

However, don't let me fool you.  More memories and thoughts of that house and our lives there are good.  They're joy-filled, beautiful memories of our family growing.  I can picture things like a movie in my mind, so many wonderful things, hilarious things, as well as the terrifying things toward the end.  The house itself isn't all bad, and certainly not an entirely negative memory.

But on Halloween, yes, yes it was a terrifying, haunted place.

But on Halloween, it will not be that way anymore.