A Delight to All

Today we went to your neurology appointment at Vanderbilt Children's Hospital,  and stepping through those doors always brings back memories. It was months after your birth before we ever heard you utter a sound. Of course, having a tube down your throat tends to make speaking a challenge for anyone. Still, we operated exclusively on faith that you felt our presence when we were with you because it was very difficult for you to acknowledge us visually, verbally, or otherwise.

From this...

To this!

On the ninth floor this morning, you had a blast just spending time in the waiting room in your chair reading a book with Mommy and me. You are so engaging and giggly. After they called us back to the waiting room, we played on the examination table crinkling the paper - which is always a big hit. And when Dr. Pina finally made it back to our room, you did something quite unusual: when he went to check you out,  you reached out for him and hugged him. It was one of the sweetest things I have ever witnessed, and it certainly seemed to pleasantly surprise Dr. Pina. He couldn't stop talking about how "sweet" and "adorable" and "what a cool little guy!" you are. I agree with him wholeheartedly.

The contrast between your ability to engage during your first few weeks and months versus today is astounding considering all the challenges you have faced. And even more than just engaging, you are able to communicate love on a level that a large number of adults have serious difficulty with. Your gifts are unique, and I pray that you continue to embrace and mature in that unique ability to love others and brighten everyone's day with your delightful laughter.

A Beginning

It was just over three years and one month ago that you were born. You were gray, thin, frail, and not breathing on your own. A brief squeak of a cry was all we would hear from you for weeks since that's all your little voice box could muster with such limited air passing over it. An entire team was dedicated to your care the second you came into this world surrounded you with activity until your condition was stable enough to let machines take over. Your first moments were chaotic ones.


Today, to look at and interact with you, it is incredible to even think that you are the same individual whose little lungs were so underdeveloped in your first few weeks of life that you needed a special ventilator that gave tiny little puffs of air so as not to over-inflate and tax your tiny respiratory system. I distinctly remember how hopeful the medical staff was that you would stay inside Mommy's tummy for as long as possible because "It's by far the best place for him to grow and develop." Even with the crazy expense and time spent in research hospitals go through in order to provide the best care and equipment possible, nothing could even touch the perfection of God's creation.

And so you arrived and turned our world upside down. But maybe it wasn't right side up to begin with. I couldn't imagine life without you, son. In this blog, I'm going to record my letters to you, and maybe one day you will be able to read and look back at my memories of those first few frightful days and the joy and growth that has followed and understand just what a miracle of creation you are.