To My First Born

I call him an angel, because he is. For me and for others. I hold him to a higher standard and expect more from him. I know what he was created for, and I will encourage him to live up to that potential. He brings me more joy than I could ever describe. He sends a peace to my soul that is unmatched by anyone or anything. He caused me to want a house FULL of children. That dream is still alive in my heart, and he started me on this beautiful journey of motherhood. The story of his conception goes back a few years.

My boyfriend’s brother was killed in October 2005, the morning after their mother’s birthday. He was shot by a police officer, and left this world at 24 years of age. It was a senseless murder. That officer took a strong family and tore it apart. The department misplaced video footage claimed to justify their actions, and there was no money for the family to file suit or receive any form of retribution. This was before the current focus on increased awareness of police brutality as captured on cell phones or other technology, and the entire ordeal was ultimately swept under the rug. Tony was the middle child of three boys. He was a life force of the family. Everyone loved him, and many depended on him. He spoke frequently about the power of a positive mind. And he was my boyfriend’s best friend.

The days that followed were a time of grieving for all who knew Tony. Failed attempts to continue on previous paths held everyone in a state of despair. I was unprepared for the task of supporting a man who lost part of his soul. Still a teenager, I was immature and not equipped to give him the encouragement he needed. My boyfriend was working full time and in school full time, not excelling in either one. He was constantly driving back to Birmingham to check on his mom. She had fallen apart. Isolated from friends and family, drinking heavily, and prescribed with an abundance of depression and anxiety medications – her health was suffering. He woke up suddenly one night and ran to the car. When he got to her apartment she wouldn’t answer the door. He went in through a window and found her on the floor. She woke up after a few minutes of him attempting to rouse her, but had no will to live without her son. It was then that we decided to have a baby.

We waited until I finished my last college final, and Trenton Anthony was born in December 2009.He saved his grandma’s life. He gave us all a reason to hope again, to trust that God is good. I had an enjoyable pregnancy, an enjoyable delivery, and he was an enjoyable baby. My boyfriend didn’t want his first name to be Tony, afraid it may constantly remind everyone of the pain and hurt they had inside, but he did want the name to live on through our seed. Those family members who knew Tony as a child immediately recognized similar traits in Trent. Calm, laid back, peaceful, positive, creative, athletic, and a free spirit. While we all miss Tony, and he can never be replaced, Trent is a joyful reminder of his legacy. As a side note, the first name Trent came from one of our favorite athletes, football player Trent Richardson. He was a determined fighter who trained hard, never quit and consistently performed at a peak level. Despite a life of adversities and setbacks, he achieved his dream and we both loved to watch him compete in college.

Trent is now 8 years old, and the days since his birth have forever changed my spirit. He has a wisdom beyond his years. The type of child that older folks say “He’s been here before.” Watching him progress into a young man has been a graceful and captivating experience. I was 23 when he was born. My most meaningful growth has taken place along side of him. While I always wanted to be mature and pretended to be wiser than I really was, Trent’s arrival in my life spurred the true change that I needed to blossom into my next phase of womanhood. He made it easy for me to develop my true self, always understanding and allowing me to try, fail, and try again. He isn’t my most affectionate child, but he knows when I need a hug or a kiss on the cheek, and there is nothing more precious than his little arms squeezing me tight.

The oldest of this new generation, he has a lot of kids that look up to him. His baby brother follows his every move. Little cousins always want to play with Trent. He is a quiet warrior. Fierce and brave when needed, but calm and passive by design. He thrives outdoors, intrigued by nature. Since a toddler he’s been catching bugs and learning about different species. He asked to go to South America when he was five years old after researching Brazil in his Montessori classroom, and now has dreams to visit Hawaii, Africa and Australia. If you ask him what he wants to be when he grows up, he’ll say ‘an underwater ocean photographer.’ His plan is to get athletic scholarships in either soccer or basketball to fund his schooling. I pray over his dreams daily, trusting that God will bring them to fruition.

He runs laps around the exterior of our house for physical conditioning, and can play an entire game of soccer with a huge smile and one or two drops of sweat. But it’s his mental strength that I admire most. Part of being born to young, adventurous parents is not a stable, scheduled, or uniform life. We’ve moved around our city, changed schools, and broken their routine more than once. Our children learn to adapt and handle new situations better than we do. If no one else, Trent’s dad and I see the sacrifices he makes and the emotional courage he portrays without hesitation. We reward him every way we know how. We’re that family who goes to the park at 7:30pm on a school night because Trent wants to. Or we spend the whole weekend camping in the mountains even though there’s chores and laundry and cleaning to be done at home. Or we drive across town to Trent’s favorite trampoline park when we just feel like taking a nap. Or we let them take their shoes off and hop in the creek to explore even though they’ll get soaked and the car will end up smelling like mildew.

Because at the end of the day, our kids are the joy and love and peace in our lives. And Trent is the leader, the pioneer, the one that God chose to come first. The one that all others will watch, and follow without question. The one that has been reading on an advanced level since an early age, but never made anyone else feel like they weren’t as smart as him. The one that perfectly thrived in a Montessori classroom but never once complained when he was shifted to public school for kindergarten. The one that has a little brother who is the ultimate level of wild and free and rough and frustrating and irritating and strong minded, but will only go to sleep if he’s close to Trent. The one who was somehow constructed to be this perfect mix of artistic and creative, yet athletic and powerful. The one who makes friends wherever he goes – not because he’s outgoing or entertaining, but because he has a gentle spirit that others are inherently drawn to. The one who emptied his entire wallet, $18, to give to a homeless man on the street when he was four years old. The one who taught me to throw uneaten food as far as you can out the car window because a bird stopping to eat it might get hit by an oncoming vehicle if it’s near the street. The one who says he wants to move to a deserted island where there’s no money because money makes people act evil and everything on the earth actually belongs to God anyway. The one whose best friends are from multiple ethnic groups and each one is treated equally with love and loyalty. The one who understands you don’t have to go to church to connect with God and says actually some people who go to church have no real relationship with God. The one who speaks his mind without wavering but says it in a calm, assertive, yet compassionate voice. The one who grew his hair out past his shoulders because he liked it and it felt natural even though living in the deep south he stood out from his peers and was frequently mistaken for a girl. The one who God made to save his family.

I talk to him about God, and he asks questions that I can’t always answer. I don’t have to filter things, and I’ve never felt the need to talk to him like a baby. He knows he can ask, and I will be honest. I pour out every ounce of wisdom and knowledge I can possibly muster, and he soaks it up like a sponge. And in those moments where I’m lacking or I’m weak, he usually says 3 or 4 words that completely address my shortcomings and makes me smile and reminds me that this little angel will lead our family. When I get frustrated and speak harshly he peacefully states “Ok mom, but remember you don’t have to say it so mean.” I am hard on him, and his dad is hard on him. Because we KNOW his potential. We see him for the child of God he is. We view him as a young prince. Sometimes it’s easier to cater to our children because we love them. We don’t want to see them struggle or cry or get frustrated. We want to show them the way and do everything for them because they are so precious and delicate and incredible. But when you’re a young prince, a little warrior, built to fight for God’s kingdom – you can do all things.

It may feel somewhat unfair at times, but a mama knows her child. I carried you for nine months, gave birth to you, nursed you for years and cared for your every need. My heart is connected to yours in a way I cannot explain. Sometimes I look at you and have to quickly look away. Because when I cry, you worry. You stop whatever you’re doing and come to my side with anxious eyes wanting to know why. And the truth is just that I’m so amazed by you. That I wanted children my whole life, and I wanted a boy first. I prayed and asked God to let you be a boy, and I wouldn’t care what any subsequent children’s gender may be. As a little girl, I always wanted an older brother. To protect me, lead me, guide me and take care of me. God gave our family the most incredible young man. I could never have specifically asked him for you because I never knew a boy like you could exist. You are my deepest dream come to life. You are everything I could have ever wanted. Yes, we will have hard times, and growing pains. It won’t always be easy but I will always be your mom. And even when you’re finding yourself and experiencing life on your own, I will never leave your side in spirit. My prayers will cover you to the ends of the earth. I will hold you in my heart and look at you in awe. The truth is, I have to ask forgiveness sometimes because I worry if our family is an idol to me. If I put you and your brother and your dad above God. I know he created you guys, and y’all are my blessings, but sometimes you are just IT for me.

I wish I could tell you how awesome you are. I am humble by nature, and have never been one to brag. But you give me so much to brag about. You make me overcome with pride. I want to tell everyone about every little thing you do that is so amazing. I know most every parent is proud of their child, but you’re different. I sometimes try to think of a little point to interject in opposition when I receive compliments about you. I could really just say “thank you, I agree, he’s such an incredible kid to be raising.” His teacher told me the other day that their class was asked to write down traits of a good friend, and one student simple wrote “Trent.” I want you to know that I praise God for you daily. I praise him for blessing us with an angel in the flesh. I ask him to fill me up so I can pour it out on you. It’s been my greatest honor to raise you so far, but just know that you’ve actually raised me – to a level I could never have reached alone. Thank you my prince.