Dear Z,

When we drove to our friends’ house, my nerves were so shot by the end that I could barely speak. I had spent the trip in the back of the car, sitting with our son in case he needed some soothing words on the way.

Typically, you sit in the back with J. He cries here and there for a few minutes, but he is usually on a trajectory towards sleep as soon as his little eyes open up and he sees you beside him. On our biggest road trip to date, there were several times that I looked back to find you asleep beside him, your pillow propped up by his car seat.

I would hear some rustling, then look in the mirror and see him settle back down. Even seeing you asleep was enough to calm him down. Not the case with his dad.

I tried all the tactics. I sang him some story-songs about the elephant and bird hanging from his car seat handle like you do, I handed him different teethers and helped him lead them into his mouth, and I would whisper in his ear that everything was okay as his cries, trapped inside the four walls of our car, grew louder and louder.

I have rarely experienced something so emotionally taxing as hearing my son crying in close quarters and not being able to soothe him. It made me feel helpless to not be able to pick him up, to pat his back, to rock him in my arms up and down the hallway of our house.

As we cruised into a parking space near our destination, I had already begun unbuckling the straps and pulling him into my arms. As we came to a stop, I had the door open and jumped out of the backseat onto the pavement. Within a few seconds, he was taking deep breaths, his face red and wet. Within a few minutes he was asleep.

On the way home, you casually and graciously offered to sit in the back with him. It’s hard to admit my weakness in this, to need you to sit in the back with him in this season of J’s life. But this is what is working for our family and you are always willing to shoulder these burdens. Thank you for so effortlessly carrying this team when I fall short.

Yours,

S