Dear Ellie,

Happy 8th birthday, El Belle!!

Another year has come and gone, and along the way so much has happened. It was certainly one of the hardest medically in a while, but we survived. We were in the hospital too much last December (can we not do that again this year, please?) wondering what was wrong with you, and then we visited the doctor on Christmas Eve just two hours before church where one of the doctors wanted us to go to the ER. Good thing we were able to push that one off…I knew if we went back to the hospital it wouldn’t go over so well with the others, and I had to trust my instincts (and that of the second doctor) that it could wait. Then we had the triple MRI of your heart, hips and head, and then that big hip surgery where you woke up after a really long and difficult (not to mention painful) surgery in that awful spica (body) cast that you needed for a month, followed by another month in the hospital for inpatient rehab (which you hated, I know). (I didn’t enjoy it either, but who am I to complain?) After knowing something was wrong but not knowing what, I learned that you were suffering from some PTSD from the surgery. There were lots of minor things in there too, but we don’t worry about the little stuff, right? I really wish I could have kept you from all of that, but we made it through it all and came through smiling! And through it all, we continue to learn from you.

Here are some more things I learned from you this past year:

9 More Things You Taught Me (and so many others too):

1) Believe in miracles. Delaney (3) woke up today so excited that it was your birthday. Her first question to me was, “Is Ellie going to talk today?” You know how every parent has hopes and dreams for their children, and you know my recurring dream, right? I look forward to the day when you walk into my room in the morning, jump into my bed and say, “I love you, Mom.” You continue to teach me to keep the faith and hold on to hope, and I will never give up on you.

2) Persistent consistency is what it is all about. Even when we encounter setbacks,we mustkeep moving forward. I think those challenging hips of yours are what continue to test me. I remember going to one difficult appointment earlier this year and seeing a sign in the waiting room that read, “Persistence – there are no giant steps that do it, just little ones.” I will never quit on you, so know that I will continue to what is best for you…even when it is HARD.

3) I need to take care of me too. It is no secret that we are in this relationship for the long haul. Your dad and I are planning for retirement for the three of us. Prior to your last surgery in May, I made the decision that this time it was going to be different. I knew the upcoming three months were going to be hard, no doubt, but I went in with a new attitude. See, I learned that if I am not strong, healthy and happy, I can’t be the best mom I can be for you. I now allow myself some space to do things for me, and that makes me stronger and more patient when we’re together. Thank you for teaching me that it’s okay and necessary to be good to me too. I even tried out for Shark Tank while you were in the hospital, which was an amazing and welcome distraction.

4) WWED. I often think of this acronym and ask myself, “What Would Ellie Do?” Your life is not easy, and yet you smile throughout many of your daily trials and tribulations. You’ve taught your parents and your siblings a great deal about the difference between true hardship and everyday complaints. You know I don’t tolerate complaining (at all) unless one is going to take action, so thanks for living it every day.

5) You’re so easy in so many ways. Yes, you are physically and mentally challenging to care for, but in so many ways you are so easy. Did I really just write that? You are so affectionate and never roll your eyes and sigh if I ask for a hug. You don’t fight with the other kids, you don’t complain, and you are a trooper when we need you to be. Your siblings should take note…there have been many times I’ve turned to Dad and said, “Ellie is our easiest child” or “Ellie is our best-behaved child”!

6) Music works in so many ways for me. You love to dance with Mommy, so come Friday night we have our Friday night dance party and you laugh and you smile and you bring so much joy and fun into the house. I get my exercise dancing around to Black Eyed Peas with you, and it’s always a treasured time. Also, music helped me so much this past year with the challenges we had together. I often found myself running on the treadmill and singing along to “What doesn’t kill us makes us stronger”, “I get knocked down, but I get up again” and “Who needs sleep? You’re never gonna get it.”

7) My vocabulary and ease of use has increased. Besides all the medical terminology I have learned, I have seen personal growth in my ability to say some words that I used to have a hard time spitting out, things like wheelchair, mentally retarded, global developmental delays, significant special needs, non-ambulatory, non-verbal and handicapped. Now they roll off my tongue.

8 ) You taught me new “skills.” Apparently, I am a pretty good at conversing with myself, or sort of.  Mom-Mom pointed out to me in Florida that you and I have conversations all the time. I try to give you choices but that’s not always a reality.  Now I notice myself doing it all the time. “Hey El, do you want vanilla or chocolate?” Pause. “Chocolate? Sure, that’s my favorite too.” Or “El, do you want to go on this ride?” Pause. “Yes, I love this one too. Let’s go for it.” Molly said to me in Disney, “Mom, I can’t believe you are taking Ellie on that ride” and I quickly responded, “Mol, she wants to. She is going to love it.” Maybe I said a little silent prayer that the two minutes would go the way I anticipated, but it did, and Ellie had a blast.

9) Things and stuff don’t matter. Every year at this time, I am always asked what people can get for you as presents. I honestly struggle because you are not into things at all.  You don’t like inanimate objects (except for a ball, perhaps) and all you want from others is love and the gift of time and attention. Throw in a few claps and some dancing and it is a Par-Tay!!! See, life is really quite simple, and you know what really matters.

Happy birthday, big girl! You are eight, and eight is great. Let’s have a good year ahead and continue to smile and laugh through it all. You’re such a big girl now…and when people see me holding you and say, “Oh, she’s such a cute baby” we just look at each other and smile. Here’s to an uneventful year as an eight year old. You deserve it.  I love you, Ellie. Happy birthday.

Love,

Mommy

Want to read more about what Ellie has taught me, read here,  and how she has influenced me as an entrepreneur, read here.