“Zaiah” – As Only His Littlest Bro Can Call Him

My third baby boy, 11-year-old Isaiah Jeremiah and one of the five loves of my life...

He’s fun; quirky; thoughtful and so compassionate. He is a part of the other half of my quad squad, dubbed “The Littles” (as opposed to the Bigs, who are 16 and 19). I am often tickled by how they pair together – one team against the other. Although the Littles clearly revere the Bigs, they are also often intermittently defiant. There’s a definitive alliance on both ends. Some days, they’re elated to be allowed into the sacred teenager room and afforded the golden opportunity to play video games. And other days, they are clearly kicked out for not being “mature” enough because of their babyish antics. Nevertheless, Isaiah is one of a kind!

Isaiah’s birth was very challenging for me as a mom. Prior to his arrival, I had been pregnant with – and lost – what I thought was going to be a daughter. I was over the moon excited to learn of the pregnancy the December before, only to have a miscarriage and subsequent D and C (surgical removal of the baby’s remains) on February 14 – of all the 365 days available. It was not preferred. In fact, I attempted to refuse. After my doctor told me the baby’s heart had stopped beating and that she’d need to see me the next day, I told her I didn’t want to – and that I would just make an appointment later to reschedule.

Her response? “Yeah, well you won’t be able to do that because you could become septic and die..”

My reply? “But it’s Valentine’s Day…”

“I’m sorry. But I have to see you tomorrow…”

Needless to say, I was devastated. Though I realize it was misdirected, I felt like I hated her in that moment. I hated that she told me. I hated that the baby’s heart stopped beating. I hated that my doctor didn’t figure out how to miraculously bring my little person back that I was so excited about. I hated that I had told so many people, that I had hoped for a daughter, and that this little person was now no more… And so, I had planned to grieve the remainder of what would have been the six months I had left.

And then, I got pregnant again. Before my nine months was up. And I felt terrible… I was so confused!

I felt like there wasn’t supposed to be another little person in that space – until after the time had passed for the previous little person. I felt like it was disloyal to fall in love with another baby when I hadn’t had a chance to meet the last one. I felt like she was secretly somewhere lamenting that I had forgotten about her – but I hadn’t. And I didn’t want her to feel that I had written her off in my mind because she had been replaced by someone else. Because the truth is, she hadn’t.

It was very difficult to get through, but I was convinced that I loved them both, even though one was lost prematurely. My heart still breaks to feel that I’m missing one, but my love for Isaiah was still wonderfully full. He has been such a blessing to me. He was unexpected, and having two little ones who seemed so much bigger already made him seem so terribly tiny when he came along. He was a wonderful gift to our family, and we couldn’t have been happier to have him.

Isaiah is my little thinker! He’s a “digital native,” often reminding me that though he loves me dearly, he also thinks I’m antiquated. He believes that I grew up with black and white TV (I didn’t). He reiterated that he didn’t know music stars from “the 1900s” (which was hilarious). It occurred to me that he wouldn’t know what to do with a phone that he had to pick up off of a hook – and he cannot imagine a world without wi-fi.

Ironically, Isaiah is also an old soul. Earlier this week, he was belting Bobby Caldwell’s, “What You Won’t Do for Love.” He regularly listens to songs from the 70s, 80s and 90s. He also introduced me to BTS, loves (clean) hip hop, classical music and sings regularly in Japanese with the Littlest Little. He’s a foodie, and has hipped me to new foodie videos, and we have the most phenomenal conversations about insects, engineering and his favorite subject (as a 5th grader) is physics.

Isaiah is also the mushiest of the bunch! He hugs me (and his dad) several times a day. He often tells me, “I love you mom.” He’s sensitive and firm all at the same time, and most of all, he is affectionate towards his faith in Christ (as they all are). Our individual conversations keep me in stitches. After questioning him about eating my plant-based cookies a few days ago when he was not vegan, he informed me that he did indeed eat them – because his “distinguished” taste told him to do so. He further noted that he “identified as half-vegan,” and said that he eats “meat and vegan” which makes him “megan!” I just died laughing!

I said all of that to say, while there are many things that we don’t understand or have an answer for, we can certainly appreciate the gifts that we’ve been given and those that remain. I am so blessed and honored to be his mom. What a treasure he is to me! He is also my tiny writer, and his stories are replete with creativity and imagination and vocabulary that makes my heart soar. I’m enamored with his uniqueness – and when it comes to having him as a part of my family, I wouldn’t want it any other way. I love my Isaiah – even though we are forbidden to call him what the Littlest Little calls him – “Zaiah.” Apparently, it was easier for him to say when he was learning to talk – and he has exclusive rights to do so (smile)!

Make your moments count. Treasure the ones you love – and enjoy every ounce of time you can. It is priceless!

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