Dear Gage, (Gager, Gagey, Gator Bait, Buddy Boy, Sweet Pea)

You are almost 6. I can’t believe it. Just 6 years ago we were entering the Holidays full of anticipation to have you join our family, enjoying the last moments of couplehood.

You have an unbelievable smile most times and a devilish grin sometimes. You have a tenacity about certain things…cleaning and organizing are favorites. You love to help sweep, rake leaves, wash dishes, vacuum, rearrange furniture, garden and decorate for parties. My favorite comment so far this Holiday from you, after passing a home with wreaths on all of the windows was "they don’t know how to decorate” indicating their lackluster show of lights.

You’ve had a rough start to your young life. Diagnosed at a year old with OMA you were behind on developmental milestones, and starting at 19 months old had to endure a schedule of therapy that most adults would fail at. PT, OT, Speech and Vision therapy…7 appointments a week at the craziest time. I like to think that your Dad and I appreciate your milestones with more gratefulness because of all of the hard work you had to do to reach them. I remember the smile on your face and your hands clapping after you took your first independent step about a month past your 2nd birthday. You are on 9 meds total for your various symptoms with ARPKD. You have had such a big life for your 6 years. You’ve had some rough spots dealing with all of your challenges. Dare I say (and tempt fate); we may be turning the corner of this block. The needles are the worst part of your treatment – labs and shots. And they have been frequent for 6 months. The Procrit® you have been on has helped you in many ways – we’ve noticed you have more affection, and are open to it. We think you haven’t ever felt well in your little life. We’re sad about that. And regardless of the problems associated with the drug, the benefits have made an immeasurable positive impact on you. Simply put, you have enough energy to play.

Writing has been a challenge for you, but you seemed to have found your stride with Mrs. C (in Kindergarten) as your teacher. You’ve made amazing progress this year already, and we’re proud when you point out a letter in a sign or try to sound out a word. This past fall was the first time you wanted to color, draw, and practice your letters and numbers.

You are fascinated with numbers. I’m not certain you have any grasp at all on minutes or hours, but you love any number in the 60s. Sixty-one seems to be repeated by you…you want 61 more minutes on the play ground, 61 more minutes before bed. Sixty one more seconds to change your clothes. You like books. And cars. And Sally (the ugly orange kitty) and your blue silky blanket. You don’t like to sleep with covers on, and often through the night you switch the direction in which you sleep.

You have a few special friends in your life. You and your cousin A are joined at the hip when you are together. You miss him and talk often about him. You will have to be watched closely as teenagers – A likes to phrase a question to you then say “Right Gage?!” You have been friends with J since you were 3 and in Mrs. C’s class (she’s our favorite). The two of you couldn’t be more different in your interests, yet somehow when you are together, you are two peas. When he spent the night with you he read you a book before bed. And that morning you two jumped off chairs playing “Save the World.” When you and AM are together, even after some time has passed, it’s as though you haven’t ever been apart. You taught her how to share, and she helped you with puzzles. Your newest friend, M, is in your class. When your teacher heard the two of you connected she put you next to each other at the table at school. You play hard with M and it wears you out.

You are special Gage. And in the years to come, I look forward to being with you on your journey. Thank you for enriching my life in ways I can’t express, and for the many lessons in which I learn from knowing you.

Love, Momma