18 years ago, I became a mom. 18 years of loving and learning and joy and sorrow. 18 years of blessings. I've tried to note one memory/treasure from each of those years (though it's been hard to narrow it - so you can look for more on the his memorial page https://www.facebook.com/groups/rememberingIan 🥰). So, join me as I remember:
Things I learned from Ian by the time he was ...
1 year old - I can memorize and recite children's books.
He had memorized many favorite books and could find any page - even if we recited them out of order. "Where's 'The attic had a little room. I cleaned it up with mop and broom and settled all my wooly guests while urging them to get some rest.' Ian?" (See, I still have Farm Flu memorized, too.)
2 years old - I can run.
Ian could, so I had to. He was quick and often attempted to escape on adventures of his own making. Constant Vigilance actually became my self-proclaimed username for some things around this time period.
3 years old - I know the parts of an airplane.
I vividly remember sitting in our apartment in Taiwan and talking about airplane pictures with Ian. He'd point to the plane and I'd tell him what that part was. He never learned to say them, but he could point out fuselage, cockpit, wheels, wings, tail, and propellor.
4 years old - I love preschool.
I loved how excited Ian was to go to preschool. He loved the bus (for summer school - we drove during the year) and wearing his little backpack around. He loved his friends - we would practice identifying them by their pictures (I'd say the names and he'd find the picture). Clayton and I had to giggle each time we'd drop off our little redhead - literally the only white kiddo in a sea of cute, dark little faces.
5 years old - There is no connection like that of a sibling.
Ian was careful with "B An" (Baby Anya) like he was with absolutely NOTHING else in his world. By the time she was 2 they were already partners in crime and could understand one another better than probably anyone could understand either of them.
6 years old - There are things I can't fix.
We got Ian's Sanfilippo diagnosis just 3 1/2 weeks after he turned 3 (on my 30th birthday, actually). I remember the devastation as I began (and continued learning) that no, I can't work hard enough to make this better.
7 years old - I am loved incomprehensibly by my Heavenly Father.
Ok, so I'm still learning this all the time. But in October of 2007 (I know, technically by the time Ian was 6, but I put it to use over the next year or so) I heard a talk by Henry B. Eyring (https://youtu.be/7h13b0D2CcI) and took it to heart. He spoke of making a point to write down all the tender mercies and ways we see the hand of God in our lives. This came at a time when I needed it probably more than ever and, though I wouldn't have wished Ian's situation on him or anyone, I am grateful it helped me pay attention and learn some of these lessons. (I wish I were still more diligent at writing these moments and blessings down.)
8 years old - I know what terror feels like.
Ian ran away from school. Well, really he just escaped. Somehow he got out of his classroom and the elementary school unnoticed. Not sure how since he would have struggled to push open the heavy doors on his own, but he did. His teacher called, upset, and told me "something really bad" had happened. She neglected to tell me he was ok (finally found on the playground wandering - not in the street, not in the nearby creek) until the end of her harrowing story. I think people might be serious about things making your heart stop and your blood run cold. There is nothing like the fear you feel on behalf of your children.
9 years old - Snuggles are NOT overrated.
Most moms probably don't get to snuggle their 10 year old boys, but Ian always loved this - even if he did have rather sharp elbows he used as leverage on whichever of my body parts was necessary to adjust his position or to get up when he was finished snuggling.
10 years old - Swallowing (and breathing at the same time) is important.
Ian really helped me to find practical application for what I had/would continue to learn through my undergraduate and graduate programs to become an SLP. His swallow studies became one more part of his ongoing care (and our ongoing education) as we learned that he was silently aspirating thin liquids and that it took much longer (people would assume he had to be full because meals took so long) and much more effort than most people realized for him to consume enough calories (he worked so hard that he burned them as he ate) to stay healthy. By the end of his last summer, Clayton had "fattened" him up again through his diligent, persistent, focused efforts.
11 years old - Modern adaptive equipment is amazing!
Our front room was full of a stander and a peapod and finally a wheelchair (when he wasn't in the chair). We were SO thankful to finally get his wheelchair after months of "working" with insurance.
12 years old - Our Heavenly Father is aware of all of us.
We lost Ian suddenly about 6 weeks after his 11th birthday. He left a gaping hole and an 8 year old best friend sister to be comforted. I remember sitting and watching the General Conference of our church with sweet Anya and being overcome by messages that reaffirmed again and again that He was aware of our little family. At one point Anya turned to me in sincere amazement and asked, "How did President Monson know about Ian?" (https://youtu.be/kbNnlQjwZb0) The talks were directed precisely to our needs.
13 years old - Loss is hard.
Within the first year of adjusting we learned that, though we were glad Ian had been spared much of the physical pain and suffering which could have been his, there is an emptiness - an incompleteness - that is not dimmed by time. We learn our way through it. We adjust to it. We work through counseling and friends and family support. But it is not forgotten. It just becomes part of the new "normal".
14 years old - I have strong, resilient children.
Anya adamantly did NOT want another sibling. The loss and struggle was still too real and too scary. But as soon as Izzi arrived I watched Anya take on the actual role of big sister that she had practiced so well with Ian. Best friends or fiercest enemies, nearly 11 years apart rather than just 3, the relationship between siblings is still strong. I am thankful for the compassion and caretaking and fun Anya learned, remembered, and practiced as Ian's "big" little sister.
15 years old - I am thankful for technology.
Memories of kindergarten Anya "reading" bedtime stories to Ian and giggling with him on his bed and in his tent still bring a smile (and sometimes a tear) to my face - even more so when I can watch them on the home movies Clayton so diligently collected. And Izzi has a much better concept of who her big brother was/is because she can see and hear him as we watch together.
16 years old - There's always a positive side.
No matter how dark or how hard things feel, there is always something beautiful to be learned. It's not always easy to find and we often need help grasping it. But it's there - and the help to find it is as well.
17 years old - People are good.
Thinking over the memories of all of the amazing friends we've made and examples we've known that we would have otherwise missed has been a true comfort and blessing at difficult times. We are so thankful that Ian helped bring out the best in others - and helped us find and appreciate it.
18 years old - I still need training wheels.
I often referred to Ian as my training wheels. Being his mom kept me focused and balanced and moving in the right direction. I feel like I lose sight of that more easily the farther I get from the active engagement of his constant care. I think I need to pull out the manual and practice some more. This exercise in gratitude has been a good step. But I sometimes think he's probably disappointed in how wobbly I've become without him.
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