Celebration of Life

There's a memory which often plays in my mind whenever I think about how big Kai is getting.  It was when we had Kai fitted for his adaptive stroller.  As the PT was explaining how the chair worked, he made mention about how the stroller can be used on a bus and strapped in, so we wouldn't have to take Kai out of the chair during transportation--and when he goes to school.  At the time, I was so focused on simply getting through one day at a time, the concept of Kai being old enough to go to school, let alone all the complications that school brings, was beyond me.  Day to day survival was all I could manage. 

Sometime between then and now, things shifted.  I can't pinpoint an exact day; perhaps it was a gradual shift, but at some point I began looking ahead more and more.  What started out as survival has become more--I started to see a couple weeks, then months, and now even years into the future.

At times the future is full of hope and promise.  He's gaining more strength in his neck--perhaps he will be able to hold his head up on his own after all!  Look, he's purposefully playing with a toy! At times the future seems bleak as reality sinks in.  You know that celebration that many parents do when their last child is finally out of diapers? Not us, we will always be changing diapers.  How am I going to lift him when he is 20, 30?

The hardest times are when I see other kids his age.  He has a cousin who is two months older than he is.  Two months.  To watch his cousin grow is bittersweet.  They should have been best buds.  They should be rambunctious little boys together. 

But that isn't my reality, and most of the time I don't even think about it anymore--except lately, as Kai's fourth birthday approached.  My thoughts turned introspective, and that is when it gets hard.  I suppose you never really completely get over the loss of the dream of the child you thought you'd have.  The little boy who would be playing in the mud, and t-ball, and terrorizing his sister.  Even simple gestures like, "mommy hold me," take on such meaning when your child doesn't speak at all.

Yet, this little preschooler is full of love and life.  He may not be able to tell me he loves me, but when I pick him up, he smiles and snuggles into me, and I know he does.  He laughs easily, and is more aware than he initially appears.  His favorite color is orange.  He prefers ice cream over apple sauce, and suckers over ice cream.  He loves strings of beads.  Blankets, especially the small receiving kind, is his toy of choice.  He enjoys other children, and is much more tolerant of them than adults.  If an adult were to touch and move his hand, he will pull away, but if a peer were to do the same thing, he would let them. 

Four years ago, this little boy was born and taught me a whole new definition of motherhood.  He rewired my thinking about life and love and God and the good that still exists in this world.  I am thankful for that, and I am thankful for him.  I am proud to be his mother.