Your Eyes Sophia!!!

You are 7 years old!  SEVEN!!!

We celebrated your birthday with our dear, Florida neighbors at the American Girl Store in Atlanta.  I will always remember your face as we entered the store - your eyes sparkling with anticipation and excitement.  After you go to bed at night, your Daddy and I talk about your eyes,  We talk about how they have changed through the years, lighter brown now.  How your eyes are soulful, deep.  They frequently stop us mid-sentence, mid-thought.  

Sometimes you fire back at us with eyes of holy indignation, spirited and ready to argue your side of the story.  In these moments you are all spirit and feeling and movement.

Your brown eyes are soulful.  When you are sad, your eyes make me sad and I grow more gentle in my reprimand.  Sophia, you have always been my teacher.  My first born, my strong-willed one, teaching me how to mother more gently, purposefully, thoughtfully.

Sometimes your eyes glimmer with humor.  A sign of your age, your sense of humor has become creative and independent.  The other night over dinner with good friends we teased that Luisa had a crush on one of our young handsome guests.  You found this to be hilarious, doubling over with laughter.  Perplexed we asked, "What is so funny?"  Your response, "Well I'm picturing Mr. David as a cat with a top hat and cane and Luisa as a cat with a fancy hat with a feather on top."  Your eyes turned to tiny slits as you giggled and rocked in your chair.  I delighted, quietly surprised.  You rely on us less and less for entertainment and enjoyment.  You have an independent view of the world, a humor all your own.  What an interesting little girl.  I would love to crawl into your brain for the day.  It would be exhausting but thrilling.

Phineas and Ferb.  Arthur.  Wild Kratts.  Your eyes grown rather dull watching TV.  You love a good story and TV tells them with much light and flash.  You are drawn in.  Someday you will join your siblings in telling stories on your mother.  "Mom was crazy about the TV!  TWO SHOWS then turn it OFF!  Your brain is rotting.  It is rotting!!!"  I'm sure you will pantomime me, with eyes wide and crazy.  Sorry love, I would rather you be up in a tree creating your own stories.  Your imagination is fantastic.  You spend hours creating scenes and adventures.  Below is a picture of "Swinter" the fictional time between summer and winter.  You covered the room in white, made a dog sled to pull your doll, and set your brother to work on snowflakes.  You have the rest of your life for TV, let your imagination take off.  This is your only time to be a little girl...

Speaking of little girl, for seven years I anticipated the moment we experienced two weeks ago.  How completely Sophia that the moment was unique and different than I expected.  Since finding out that my firstborn would be a girl, I imagined reading children's classics to you at night.  Heidi.  Anne of Green Gables.  Little House on the Prairie.  The Little Princess.  You would lay your head on my lap and I would stroke your hair, reading to you softly.  Two weeks ago, the family gathered on the couch.  You were already settled into the couch corner, reading your new Josefina book.  Your Daddy encouraged you to read it aloud to all of us.  And then it happened.  We read grown-up children's literature together BUT you read it to me.  Fluently.  With enthusiasm. We all listened as you read to us for over 15 minutes.  Since then we've gathered after Luisa's gone to sleep and you read to us the adventures of Josefina.  You are reading to me, not me to you and I think how perfect.  How completely Sophia.

Certainly this blog has turned into an account of Luisa's diagnosis and the tough journey our family is now on.  I wonder if this should be so.  I do not want to deprive you or your brother of space here in this blogosphere.  I do not want to cheat you out of words created about only you.  You asked me for a lemonade stand every summer for the past 3 summers.  I never delivered for you but I did for Luisa.  I feel bad about this.  But I know this will be one of many times Luisa will take the limelight.  I pray you will hold up to your first name, "Ana" and grant your family "grace" in this situation.  I pray you understand that you are profoundly loved.  And sweet girl, daddy and I are treading on new ground, trying to find our way, trying to prioritize each of our treasured children, not forgetting one when the other requires so much heart and work and time.  

While on the subject of your sister, your brown eyes told me something the other night.  You are grieving too.  We snuggled in bed together as we sometimes do.  I rubbed noses with you, kissed your face, told you I loved you a million times over.  Your eyes looked up to some point on the ceiling as I snuggled my nose into your neck.  You were quite for a moment and then you said, "I wish Luisa played dolls with me.  Lots of sisters play dolls.  Luisa doesn't play dolls."  You turned your eyes and head toward me and I saw in them sadness.  Genuine sadness.  So I was sad too.  And I was taken aback.  You understand and process so much more than I give you credit for.  In this Rett Syndrome journey, you've lost many things.  Laying right there next to me is a big girl who has held in grief over the loss of a sister's companionship.  I weakly tried to encourage with, "Well, she kisses her baby doll!  And she likes to hear her doll talk." "Yes momma, but she doesn't play with me."  No, sweet girl she does not.  She is not able to hold a bottle for your doll or pretend to grocery shop.  But Luisa loves you very much.  She is happy to see you.  You make her excited.  And you are the very best at getting her to walk.  She kisses you.  Her eyes light up when you come close.

You need truth, don't you?  All children need validation in their feelings.  So this is what I want to say to you:

Ana Sophia you are right.  It hurts.  I am sad for you that your sister doesn't run to you, hug you with her arms, feed your dolls.  I am sad that our time with you is often cheated by her screams and needs.  But, brown eyed girl, you have a precious gift in your sister.  She will teach you so much.  How to love unconditionally.  How to take joy in other's accomplishments.  How to feel pride and purpose in helping others.   Luisa will look at you with unconditional love her whole life.  She will delight in you and most likely, never steal your clothes.It is not your job to take care of her.  That is our job.  But when you talk to her, when you do walking exercises with her, when you encourage her in that beautiful voice of yours - this is evidence of goodness in the world.  And spirited one, perhaps because of Luisa, you will always have kind eyes towards those with limitations.  Sophia, you will learn early that life is not fair.  But you will be privy to a truth most of the world ignores:  Brokenness is the conduit for grace.  And we are all broken.  Even you, Ana Sophia.  Here's another truth you will learn.  A truth many grown adults have yet to learn - You are not the center of the world.  Perhaps this seems harsh but actually it is a beautiful, purpose-giving truth.  Those who internalize it will find greater happiness than those who live for self.  Your sister will teach all of us to put ourselves second in order to care for another.  God made you a big sister two times over.  But on the 2nd time, He called you into a special relationship with a little girl who would need your extra love and care.  Sweet sisters.

You are most aware of your sister and her progress as evidenced in this family portrait you created.  After family portrait after family portrait of Luisa crawling, you drew her standing.  How tender and insightful!

How about Vincent?  He's your best friend and as Olivia the pig likes to say your "little bother" too.  Actually you guys adore eachother most of the time.  Just this morning you called for him to come kill a roach in your room.  "Just a minute Sophia!  I have to grab some toilet paper."  He was so proud of protecting you.

What else should I record for your 7th year of life?  You are independent, full of life.  Full of energy.  You continue to be tender hearted.  You discovered the joy of reading.  You stay up past your bedtime with a lamp lighting the pages of your American girl adventures.  You are thriving in 1st grade with great admiration for your amazing, tender teacher who leads with discipline and love.  School is another world where you exist apart from us.  Making for yourself your own identity.  You are blessing others, growing into an amazing young lady.   

This stage in your childhood is lovely.  You are growing up but still so innocent.  I want to preserve it as long as possible.  I want you to play and climb and run free.  In your 8th year of life may your brown eyes stay pure.  May they sparkle and laugh and only cry over those things that can be corrected.

Your lovely eyes will see many new things this year.  Just be you, little one.  Let those eyes sparkle and laugh in the way only your eyes can do.  Daddy and I love you brown eyed girl.