And he's going to be seven. I waffled about doing a party for him. Birthday parties around here have usually been fairly low-key affairs. From about age four to the middle school years, we have a family gathering and a friends party. Most of them haven't wanted to do the friends party after that, so it kinda dies down.
Aaron, on the other hand, had the biggest party I think I've ever seen his first two years. As time has gone on, it's gotten smaller, but still... And then there's this year. I had just about decided that we'd just do a family one on Sunday, like we do for the other kids, and be done with it. But then, in the back of my mind was the niggling thought. "What if it's the last one?" "What if we don't get to celebrate eight with him here with us?" And I just couldn't do it.
So tomorrow, his birthday, the day he entered this earth life, we'll have another party. In comparison to his first few, it will be very low key. But I'll get him a cake, and we'd love to have people stop by. Come wish our miracle boy a happy birthday. It's a blessing that so many children don't get to experience, and we're grateful that we do.
He's still here, he's still growing, he's still facing challenges. We had a hearing appointment on Friday, a vision one today, and a comprehensive, all you can eat, multi-specialist one on Wednesday. There's so much to talk about at that one. We'll touch on his hearing results (moderately severe to severe without his hearing aid, none to mild with it), go over the eye results we get today. We'll talk about his nutrition, his breathing, oxygen use, frequent steroid use, and of course, the seizures I've seen. They'll weigh and measure my big boy, and we'll go over his many meds and get refills. We'll talk about repeating his annual cancer screenings, and I'll have a rock in my stomach until we get them done. It will be a long day. But that's okay, 'cause he's still here.
|I put a g-tube and trach in one of his stuffed animals|
for his birthday present. He's not quite sure, but has
fun poking his finger in the trach. Which is much better
than putting his finger in his own trach!
I love my son, I love all my kids. Sometimes I miss the me who took for granted that babies came home from the hospital with mom, and eight year old birthdays always followed seven year old birthdays. But I think with that new knowledge comes a desire to hold them just a bit closer, to cherish the memories, to try to capture the everyday moments that are so perfect in their imperfection.
So join us tomorrow if you can. Help us eat the cake so I don't try to do it all on my own. And hold your kids a little tighter.