7 Years Ago, Right About Now...

It was a morning like this, sunny, clear, not a cloud in the sky, and hot. The things I remember are the brickwork on the ground of the office park we were in, the way the green of the trees contrasted with the deep blue of the sky.

And the black hole that suddenly became my son's future.

I stood in front of the doctor's office, dialing two numbers frantically on my cell phone: home, and dh's work. Nic, then 30 months old, laughed and chased a butterfly through the square.

He hadn't changed. But my perception of his future did.

He was not yet talking. He was a lovely little guy--when he wasn't screaming about something. He was beautiful, bright, and still the little boy I loved.

With a label. And a future I had no idea how to plan for.

I spent many an hour crying, cursing, bargaining with God in the weeks that followed. Never in his presence. Never where he could see or hear me. I kept a church and state separation of my feelings and doings for the greater good of my family. As far as they were concerned, it was business as usual; therapies, outings, looking for a house (DH had just gotten a job out of state). And I've all but forgotten about a lot of that time. It was a lost weekend that turned into months.

Seven years post diagnosis, Nic is still the lovely little guy he was, now growing up. He still has a quick bright beautiful smile. He's strong and smart, and he has a good heart.

He has gone through a lot, but he continues to grow, and learn, and evolve. And he refuses to give up, be beaten down or otherwise be intimidated. He gets frustrated, but it only makes him work harder, push farther.

I could not have dreamed then what he would be now.

And he's not finished.

(Neither am I)