Normal

Have you ever looked up the word "Normal" in the dictionary? There are a ridiculous number of definitions for a word I think gets misused way too often.

Personally, I think normal is all relative ... and yes, I said relative as in perspective not aunts uncles cousins etc - that's an entirely different story. ;-)

When we plan our lives, many think of marriage, a home, a career, children, etc.

I think everyone plans with the idea that things will all fall in line and happen according to plan.

We'll get married. We'll have our 4,5,6 kids. :-) They'll be bright and courteous. They'll grow up doing all of the things we did as kids and then they'll get scholarships to nice colleges and build lives and families of their own.
(Okay, so some of that is wishful thinking, but hey, dream big :-))

We'll have a nice normal family.

Then

Your two year old is diagnosed with a heart condition that limits his activities and puts him in and out of the hospital.
Your second child is born special needs and spends the first two years of his life almost completely deaf and on oxygen and monitors. He doesn't sit up or crawl or any of the "normal" things babies do for a very long time, he can only drink a special hypoallergenic formula from a bottle, and you are told that he is low functioning and you may not be able to expect much from him.
You find out that your life is no longer you own and you have inherited an entire battery of doctors, therapists, advisers, etc that for some reason now have the right to tell you how to take care of your children and monitor their progress.

So, what do you do?

You press on.
You become your children's voice when they don't have one.
You argue with anesthesiologists to make sure that the correct precautions are taken through each surgery.
You say "fine ... my son can't hear, but he can learn sign"
You give a zillion medicines at all times of the day.
You monitor their foods carefully.
You monitor their activity levels carefully.
You monitor everything carefully.
You get on a first name basis with all of the doctors & nurses you now regularly see.
You put up with all of the people who love to give advice and point out all of the things your child isn't doing or isn't allowed to do because they don't understand how all encompassing "medically fragile" is when it is a part of your daily life.
You take one step forward and two steps back.
You pray a lot.
You cry some.

Then you just love.

And slowly, you realize you are making progress.

Slowly meds start to regulate.
Levels stabilize.
Surgeries are successful.
Monitors and oxygen tanks get sent back.
Echo cardiograms come back with less activity.
Amazingly, ears open up and your child responds to sound.
One kids starts to run around and play with less risks while the other actually crawls.

It's a long road.
It is very rarely an easy road.
It is a road we will most likely always be on.

So why would I do it again?

For days like this:

Days where I see my eldest son climb a tree with his uncle.
Days where he rides down the road with friends on their scooters.
Days where he plays soccer in the back yard or jumps on the trampoline.
Days where I get to see my little boy be a little boy.
Days when I get to teach him how to shoot a bow & arrow just like my Papa taught me.
Days when he comes and asks to get in the bed with me for a few minutes - not because he is scared or anything is wrong - but just because he wanted to snuggle.

For days when:

I walk into my middle sons room and see a grin split his entire face as he greets me that morning.
I watch him sign an entire Signing Time DVD and hum along with the songs.
My son doesn't just spin toys on the sit & spin but figures out how to spin himself.
I am riding down the road and I can reach back and hand a french fry to my little boy and have him safely feed it to himself.
I hear my sweet little boy mimicking every sound his big brother makes in the bath as they sit in there together without my help, playing.
Making up new verses to "The Wheels on the Bus" inspires an entire hour of fun between brothers.
For days when I hear my sunshine sign and say "mommy" knowing it means me.




This is why I am a mom.

This is why this is all I have ever wanted.

This is why I continue.


I love you my precious boys.
Thank you for not being "normal."
Thank you for being so much more.