Dear Jack,

You are 40 months old. The 40 month letter almost became the one you'd go looking for years from now when I'm long gone. I've never been this late in writing to you, but we'll get to that later. I like to imagine you theorizing the disappearance of this month's letter when you're older. Just what happened that fortieth month, you'll ask yourself.

Okay, maybe not. Here's your letter, kid.

You're still having trouble with the transition at school. You go in without any problems and aren't upset when you leave. It causes you some anxiety on the way there in the mornings, though. You were so nervous last Tuesday that you threw up! You told me your belly got too excited. I hope that passes soon. I observed you in class last week (there is a two-way mirror) and I was much assured that you're in a good place and it's a good fit. I watched you sort geometric shapes, work with the "brown stairs" and sit quietly listening to a class mate read aloud. You pushed in your chair when leaving a station. I was really proud to see you integrating in to the classroom. Plus, I just think you're really cool and I liked peeking in. I've noticed your ability to wait is growing (perhaps slowly) and you sneeze and cough into your elbow. Montessori for the win!

We've been going to "art school" each Monday. You still aren't a kid who is interested in focusing on a painting or detailed craft, but you've found a niche there and you are producing some beautiful stuff. You had dueling paint brushes last week (monsters fighting), and spent an inordinate amount of time at your favorite station, spin art.

You're still acting out elaborate imagined scenes with your toys and singing fantastic impromptu songs. You've decided you'd like to be a bat (NOT Batman!) for Halloween, so we're working on it.

We went camping and you loved it! You sat up around midnight in the darkness and said "I'm just looking for my foot. Okay, here it is." We discovered that it's literally impossible for you to walk down a trail. It's awesome to see you trail running - hopping from one rock to another, balancing and leaping. Our constant admonishments didn't seem to deter your joy. I'm glad. Just don't bash your head on a rock, okay? We hiked the wrong way for a little while, got rained on, I got bit by a dog, we had noisy neighbors, the ground is hard - but guess what? We were all so happy. I can't wait to do it again.

I haven't been feeling great these days. On the whole, I've been feeling low. A little more tired than usual. A little achier. Less able to recover from disruptions in sleep or my regular workouts. Factor in the absence of naps and our days are so, so very long for me. I don't have much left at the end of the day. Not even enough to sit down and write to you. I'm trying to get on top of it, but I just don't know. Sometimes I think I'm finally feeling what MS is really like for most people. I have been at this emotional point before and felt a lot of sadness at the thought of losing the ability to be an active mom. That feeling is less acute now. I'm growing up and I'm learning that love itself is an action word. Work and play are love made evident, but love is an act, too. A still and quiet one. Not imperceptible.

As I navigate the reality of my disease, I also navigate motherhood. I don't have a before and after. I learn them simultaneously. I falter, fail, get up, and celebrate in equal turns these two central realities in my life. I won't do it right all the time. I won't do it wrong all the time. But I will keep doing it.

And I'll be tired.

But I'll be happy.

Love,

Mom

p.s. you rode a horse!

p.p.s. you went fishing!