Preston, our middle child. He came into the world early, too early, during a season when everything in our marriage felt fragile, broken, and stretched thin. He was born a preemie, but even then, he didn’t cry much. He just.. was. Peaceful. Gentle. Calm. Almost like he knew we didn’t have room for more chaos. Like he came already understanding the assignment: be light in the darkness.
God and Preston saved me.
Postpartum depression. Marital depression. Sleepless nights. A toddler still in diapers. I should’ve drowned under all that weight, but I didn’t. Somehow, Preston gave me the strength I didn’t know I had. His calm was my anchor. His sweet presence made everything feel just a little bit softer. He made it easier to raise Greyson in that season, not harder. What newborn does that?
As he’s grown, Preston hasn’t changed much- he’s still the same tender, affectionate soul. Still tells me he missed me after being at school all day. Still asks to be tucked in. Still screams, “Mommy, can you give me a good night kiss!?!?”.
He’s the mediator between his brothers- often the one I hear saying, “Stop fighting, guys.” Though to be fair, he definitely stirs the pot sometimes, too. He is the middle child, after all.
Preston is a little parkour daredevil- always climbing, jumping, flipping, free-styling. Sports? He loves them, but not the structure. He’d rather move how he wants to and create his own flow. And the wild part? He’s good. Like, really good. Whether it’s skateboarding, biking, or anything involving movement- he picks it up fast and makes it look easy.
He makes friends easily. People just.. like him. Maybe it’s that kind face, or perhaps it’s the way he sees the world. Kindness isn’t something we had to teach him; it’s just in him. It pours out of him in little ways, in soft words, in spontaneous hugs.
He’s sensitive. Deeply. Sometimes too sensitive that we get frustrated. But I’ve come to realize: sensitivity is a superpower. Sensitive kids grow up into emotionally intelligent adults. They’re the ones who notice when someone’s hurting. They’re the ones who pause, ask questions, and love without holding back. Sensitivity is the soil where compassion grows. And in a world that often rewards hardness, I’m grateful for his softness.
Preston didn’t just arrive in Mai Life- he restored it. He made me strong. He made our Family better.
He’s the heartbeat that grew from the wreckage.
Mai Household Mayhem 