SiahBoo.

Jesiah Brady,

I am cheating writing you this letter. I made you pinky promise me something just so I could write to you. Also because I have no clue who the other last person I pinky promised was. You actually haven't pinkied me anything yet- you tried to make me promise to buy you a giant LEGO set from Walmart, but I told you it had to be something not involving money and you were stumped. You are in the backyard right now "talking it out" with your friend and since I am sure you will come up with something, I am starting my letter.
When I was pregnant with you I gained 100lbs. You were the perfect reason to eat whatever I felt like whenever I felt like it, so I ate nothing but pizza and Super China Buffet for 9 straight months. Because of this I got pre-eclampsia and had a rechid, horrible, terrible, unforgettable birthing experience. My blood pressure got so high and stayed that way for so long during your birth that even after you were out I was sick sick sick. My blood pressure wouldn't come down, I was sick from all the meds they used to keep me from seizing, and I had been cut open.

(You just came in to pinky promise me that I would let you wrestle with the boys outside. I said no. I here sighs of defeat coming from the backyard...oh you're coming back in- "Promise me I never have to go to school!" Uhm no.)

You looked JUST like your father. I couldn't breastfeed because you wouldn't latch on, and I was too sick and anxious to even try very hard. We did not connect. A week later when I got to go home, I was so engulfed in post postpartum depression Travis had to force me to interact with you. I am glad he did. I am glad your Daddy is strong for me when I can't be. So I held you. I fed you. I changed you. We connected. Your Dad left right about that time for 6ms, and it was just you and me.
I feel like it was pretty much just you and me from then on out for too long. I was your only constant, and I guess in a way still am. Back then your Dad and I weren't doing so hot. It wasn't good for you, or me, or him- so me and you packed it up and went to Grandaddies. I will never forget the guilt I felt over you not being able to have a Mom and Dad together. I will never forget how painful it was to leave you at Mrs. Deatons daycare every morning while you screamed your guts out because I had to work. You hated that place. Lucky for you, God showed up quickly and began to fix the situation between me and your Dad, and we ended up back where we belonged.
Things since then haven't been all sunshine and rainbows, but pretty darn close. You have had some bumps in the road, big ones and little ones. I know some of those bumps have been because of the earlier years in your life, and I wish I could change so much so that you wouldn't have to deal with "stuff" now. I know that I can't go back. I also know you are much stronger than any of us may think and just like a phoenix, will rise up from ash. You astound me Jesiah. You are by FAR the most interesting boy I know.

("Mama I think I finally found out- "You take me and Aiden to the beach." "Honey, it's fall." "I need to keep thinking.")

You are the epitome of a 50/50 mix of mother and father. You are creative, artistic and eccentric. You are thoughtful and sensitive, kind and caring. You are SO loud and SO weird. You are rough and tumble until you get hurt and then you are either really really mad at your aggressor or crying like a small child. You are mohawks and skinny jeans- far too young to have such a sweet sense of fashion. You prefer hip-hop music to any other genre available. You have no patience and you hate sweating more than anything in the world. You hate when other kids talk about things that are inappropriate and you tell them so. You are a cuddle-bug, who always makes sure he gets prayed for at night, and wants me to lay with him and tell him silly made up stories. You were my saving grace. You are so many things Jesiah Brady Decker and I cannot wait to see who you become.

I love you forever no matter what,
Mama

PS. There has yet to be a pinky promise.