To My Sons, On Their 17th Birthday

Dear Brooks and Connor-

It’s 8:00pm the night before your birthday and I’m waiting for you to come home from football practice.  To drive here, on your own, because you don’t need a ride anymore, and all day I’ve been flooded with memories of what this night and the next day felt like 17 years ago.

You were supposed to be born on the 6th.  It was sweltering that summer, and when I sat down, my belly stuck out past my knees.  It was convenient only because I rested my dinner plate, my fingernail polish, or the book I was reading on the ledge created by my body making room for you.  I loved being pregnant.  Even huge and hot and barely fitting into your dad’s t-shirts stretched tight across me, I loved every single minute of it.  Your dad was amazing and told me every day that he thought I was beautiful, when I knew what he truly meant was how beautiful it was to see this incredible gift of life taking shape right in front of both of us.

On August 2nd, an ultrasound showed that “Baby A” was outgrowing “Baby B” pretty rapidly and it was time to induce.  The night before I went to the hospital, everyone took bets on delivery time, weight, and length.  Your uncle Jason, who’s birthday is also on the 7th, bet that you’d be born then, instead of the 6th as planned.  36 hours and a C-section later, Jason won the bet.

I will never ever forget the first time I heard that sweet cry.  Literally the breath you took took mine away, and I instantly knew exactly why I was put on this Earth.  A minute later, and suddenly there was a symphony of sweet, loud baby cries, and your dad’s tears and mine made a salty mess mixed together on the pillow of that operating table.

Brooks, you were first.  You were a pound heavier and had the most beautiful skin I’d ever seen, you still do.  You were strong, and loud, and from the moment you were born, you looked for Connor, and you wanted to be close to him.  In every sense of the word, you were the big brother.

Connor, you were Baby B.  Your legs were long and skinny and you had a gentleness and an eagerness in your eyes that I still see today.  When you were wrapped in a blanket, you always wiggled one arm out and rested it gently on Brooks.  You were the caretaker, the soft heart and the lover.

I remember every minute of that day and how despite the pain and the stretch marks and all the things that come with pregnancy, in all the many ways that I felt physically broken, I knew that I never ever wanted to be put together the way I was before.  You boys changed my life that day and it was the best damn thing that ever happened to me.

And here we are, 17 years later, and it feels like a crossroads, a precipice…a cliff’s edge.  You have your licenses, you’ve taken the ACT, you’re considering being collegiate athletes, you both have amazing girlfriends, and you are about to start your junior year of high school.  All of the ups and downs and ins and outs and lessons learned have brought you right here. To this edge.

I know that way too quickly, you’re going to use those wings you’ve been testing, and you’re going to take that leap.  And when you do, I want you to run full force, without fear and hesitation, right into whatever is next for you.  And I’m going to be here watching and cheering you on.

But before you do, let me leave you with this….

Brooks, never, ever stop being the big brother.  Not only to Connor and Perry, but don’t ever stop loving and giving to everyone you come in to contact with.  From the time you were old enough to know how, you always took care of everyone first before yourself.  Your Gigi loves to tells the story of how you would ask for “coo coos”, which were cookies, and when she handed you one, you would say “dis one for my brudder” and the second one was for you.  It’s what you’ve always done.  You’ve literally given the shirt off of your back for someone in need.  You’ve emptied your wallet and your heart countless times to make sure a stranger had a meal, or a ride, or a friend.  No matter how old you are, in 17 or 77 years from now, Connor will need you.  We all will.  But as you’re taking care of him and of all of us, take care of you.  Remember that you cannot pour from an empty cup.  You need space and time alone to reflect; to grow; to heal and to recharge.  You’ve always needed that, even as a little boy.  Recognize when your cup is running low, and fill it up.  Surround yourself with people and places and things that make you better, and keep adding value to everyone you come into contact with.  God has given you an incredible gift of serving and loving those in need, and I cannot wait to watch you fully grow into it.  This world is a better place with you in it.

Connor, I envy you.  You are the most disciplined and dedicated person I have ever met.  You make life look easy, even when it’s not.  You have always had that “thing” that people can’t describe.  The “secret sauce” of a natural born leader, on and off any field of play.  I love the dichotomy of your amazing academic intelligence, and your sometimes total lack of common sense!  I hold on to the innocence you have when you get nervous talking to people that you don’t know and am reminded of your huge heart when you come right in the door and hug and kiss me and tell me you love me.  You are going places, and you make me so so incredibly proud.  But on your path to that amazing place you’re headed, slow down.  Be ok with mistakes.  Remember that you are either “green and growing, or ripe and rotting”.  Not knowing all the answers is ok.  Not being everything everyone expects you to be is ok.  Being YOU is more than ok.  It’s amazing and it’s such a blessing that God gave you to me.

So there you are, twin brothers, 17 years old, holding hands on the edge of where you’ve been and where you’re going.  You are two halves of a perfect gift, an infinite blessing, and the greatest challenge I’ve ever faced.  Please, don’t run and jump yet….not quite yet.  Let’s make 17 your best year.

Thank you for letting me be your momma.

-H