Going anywhere, publicly, meant we drew lots of attention.
Our little stair-steps.
Three boys and one baby girl.
Our 'B' kids.
The 'Killer B's.'
The 'Stewart's.'
We were blessed with wonderful adult friends during those years and equally great pint-sized playmates for our four.
I'd often hear comments about how well our kids got along together. For the most part, they did.
I'd hear how they were good students or talented athletes.
All that was nice, of course. Who doesn't want to hear their children seem to be figuring out this 'life' thing with minimal bumps and scrapes along the way?
As the kids have grown and now are all well into their 20's, I've realized how much more proud I am when I look at them now.
More bumps and scrapes than I would have ever wished upon them. Some of the pain couldn't be fixed by a bandaid and a hug from mom. I couldn't help them on their journeys.
Perfectly imperfect.
Our Braxton has searched for his place in this world. Always knowing he was supposed to make a 'change' yet not quite finding how to do that. As a young man of 26, I now see him in the place he needs to be. He may have had to go to another country to 'find himself,' but he's becoming more of who he truly is than I've ever seen before. He was born an old-soul and has never fit into the mold meant for him. Finally, I see and hear a man content with his life course. I'm more convinced than ever that he will leave his mark on this world.
Our Blaize had to follow an overachieving and focused older brother. Not easy to walk in those footsteps. While we never made him feel he had to, Blaize took some years actively rejecting that path and set out to be independent of Braxton's example. Some of what was laid out for him was doable. It would work for Blaize. But, after years of coming to terms with who he was, Blaize was able to say, publicly, what he had been holding inside. Even in this age of sexual/gender acceptance, Blaize showed a courage I didn't know he possessed. The final piece of the puzzle came into place and Blaize became everything he was born to be. His courage has me awestruck. I've told him, more than once, that he is the 'voice' for others who haven't yet found theirs.
Our Brody was born with a carefree and fun-loving spirit. He never competed with his brothers for attention or for anything else. He just was himself. Totally and completely. Sometimes, we don't notice when such a personality starts to change. I didn't. And I'm his mom. Following an unthinkable tragedy when he was 19, Brody started to change. Little by little. Until he finally had enough. It's been nearly a year, and I can see my old Brody again. His struggle with depression impacted us all. We have all grown in awareness and will continue to strive to help Brody in any way we can. It's a learning process. Day to day. The pride I feel that my son had the courage to ask for help is something I've not talked about much. But, I've never been more proud of Brody than I am now.
Our baby, Bentley. She'll always be that to us and, perhaps, that's been her Achilles heel. Would we ever see her for all she was because she was the baby? Because she was the only girl? Because she was both of those? Until this last year, when she went back to college on her own, she never had the chance to prove she could 'make it on her own.' I've told her, recently, how impressed of her I am. We had things going on with all three of her brothers and she was left on her own. Not that she hadn't been to college before-but never without all or one of 'her boys' by her side. She did it. Incredibly well. She's one hell of a person. Strong yet sensitive. Loving but independent. The baby grew up this year. She's come into her own.
And so...there they are.
My four babies.
Perfectly imperfect.
If I had known, I would have tried to ease the trials and tribulations. I would have tried to ease the pain. I would have tried to shelter them from these bumps and scrapes.
I'm guessing that's why I didn't know.
Life is about making it through the times which challenge us.
I think they've done that.
They're going to be fine.
My 'Killer B's.'
Perfectly imperfect.
It is what it is.
p
