A Letter to My Child's Therapists

I'll never forget the day I met each of you.

You walked into his hospital room with your bags (the ones we would know so well), pulled out your big notebook, and started a file with his name at the top. We had been in the hospital for a week at that point, and it was our fourth hospital trip in two months. I was running off of machine coffee and no sleep. The most exciting time of our day was when the helicopter landed on the pad outside of Micah's room. So when you walked in with your bags and notebook, hope followed you through the door.

He was only 12 weeks old and didn't even make the percentile charts. His tiny body was boney and frail from being so malnourished. The doctors didn't know what was wrong with him and I don't think I've ever felt more scared or more alone. Until you walked through that hospital room door.

You cried as I shared with you his story. And even though this was your job, you talked with me like a friend. You helped me fight for him when no one else listened. I didn't know it then, but you would create a team for Micah that would go to war for him. God sent us an army that day through you.

You've all seen our boy through some really hard and scary days. You've been patient with him as he would recover from surgery or sickness. You've pushed him on the days my mama heart couldn't. You have been the one to see past the now, into the future when now is sometimes as far as I could see. You've made him work. You've fought through tantrums and that very strong will of his. But you've also come to know him, and you would realize when he had reached his limit, when he had tried enough.

You know the real me. You've seen me on my worst and best days. You always wave your hand when I tell you to not look at my house. And when you rummaged through our cabinets and fridge, we knew you were really family. You've given me grace when you know I've been overwhelmed and you've sat and listened when I needed a good cry.

We've shed lots of tears together. You cried with me when he took that first bite.

We both had our phones out when he first crawled, even with that little backpack. And tears streamed down our cheeks when he took that first step. Because we all knew how hard he had worked for it.

He's a fighter, that Micah, and I believe it's because partly of you- teaching him to get back up and try again. I can never adequately thank you for all you've done for him- for me. You've been so much to our family. A friend to Selah, a listening ear to me, and Micah's favorite after-nap play mate.

So thank you.

Now when I look at my strong, smart, and brave two year old, I see all the mountains he has overcome. It's hard to believe he started as that tiny, frail, developmentally delayed baby. He's climbed all of those mountains because of YOU.

Thank you for fighting for him, working with him, teaching him, but mostly loving him like he was your own. You'll forever hold a special place in our hearts.

And all he accomplishes in his precious life, will be your victories too.

We love you. All of you.