Last weekend we celebrated my little boy's seventh birthday. I can't believe he's seven! I think he will always be my baby. I love when he comes and snuggles under my chin and he still has a sweet voice that reminds me of when he was a toddler. Being my youngest and last baby, I think his birthdays are always bittersweet; just a reminder of how long it's been since I birthed a child.
His birth was such a transformative experience. Birthing him at home, in my own bed, almost entirely unassisted (our midwife arrived 10 minutes before his arrival) made me feel so powerful. I don't think I realized what my body was really capable of until I surrendered to the experience and trusted my body. Raising a child with special needs has also taught me strength I didn't know I had. I once wallowed in the idea that my child would be handicapped by a motor processing disorder. I often blamed myself though Apraxia in children doesn't have a single known cause. Again, once I trusted in my child to succeed and I turned from a worrier to an advocate, those years of Apraxia treatment became transformative.
He makes me so proud. He's so sweet and kind. When we play games together, even if it isn't a cooperative game, he tries to help out others so there are no "losers". He's silly and wild. Sometimes I have to remind myself that his boundless energy is a good thing. Though he struggles with language arts, he has a very scientifically inclined mind. He absorbs facts about nature and animals and will teach me things I've completely forgotten or sometimes even things I never knew. I love him endlessly.
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