Beautiful Son

I have a beautiful son. In the beginning I thought he could not see or maybe hear. They said he would not sit or talk or read or know me. I have a beautiful son. It’s odd when you are faced with loving someone you can not reach or understand. Someone to whom you may always introduce yourself or reteach a word they knew moments before. I never understood his fear of socks or cotton balls or who the people were that his dancing fingers represented. We assume a certain amount of return on our love, but with a child who has a mind that can not be defined, love is often simply the opportunity to continue to give. I have a beautiful son.

His name is Noah and he is the calm in my storm. He always was. Even before he arrived our world was filled with “may nots.” Weekly kind warnings from nurses as we searched for heartbeats that he may not be there… we may have to make choices…but he was there, and he did survive… a beautiful ”dolly” as his dad exclaimed at his birth. When he finally spoke at three, it felt like he had that many years of things to say. When he ran through a park holding his brothers hand it was from God.. the way you picture it in the fairy tale of your mind. When he screamed and cried and spiraled at his lack of understanding of the world he was locked in, his sister would reach down the dark hole he had plummeted into and grab him quieting his tears and telling him it would be all right. I have a beautiful son.

A friend was once talking about her fears during her first pregnancy of an unhealthy child. What if tests proved her baby had downs….what if they do? Will you love her any less? If someone offered Noah a “Normal” reality would I accept? He is beautiful, his joy is is as immeasurable as his disability and everything I have learned about purity I have learned from him. Everything I have learned of humility I have learned from him. I will never claim to have raised him alone. That would be a lie, an impossibility. I had an army of therapists teachers and family. Without him we would not be whole. All my children taught him and loved him. We all learned and protected this one child and in doing so loved and protected each other. This boy they said was retarded or autistic or mis-wired really was here repairing my mis-wired heart, my mis-wired life. I have a beautiful son.

Hello Noah…I will be your Mommy today…