Because We Can

There is a point to this very long post that is going to see very disjointed.

Two days ago I got back from a Battle Silverware lunch and wrote the following post. I wanted to publish it for myself, but at the time the feelings were too raw to share even on this blog, where I usually feel comfortable. So, I saved it for a time when it would feel right to post, if ever. It's not even finished exactly.

Wouldn't you know, it feels totally right to share now.
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Feb. 9, 2010
WHY
Today after a series of small, annoying and not-worth-blogging events, I found myself driving back from Little Bug's school in a blizzard, frustrated, upset, and sobbing.

Then I got stuck behind a train.

As I sat there, with the snow falling all around and the train crawling painfully slow and the tears flowing and the time-off clock from work ticking, I said a word out loud I don't think I have ever consciously voiced before.

Why?

Appa and I have never gone there before. We have the best son in the world, so our only "why" has ever been "why did we get so lucky."

Today, my "why" was not that kind of why.

However, the minute it came out of my mouth, a voice clear as day and firm as can be filled my head with this thought.

Because you could handle it.

Okay, yes. I can handle that answer. Little Bug needed a family who could handle it. And we can. Maybe not always gracefully or totally controlled, but he is getting everything he could possibly need. And I needed every single lesson, ever single character stretch Little Bug gives me. The idea of Little Bug not being my son make me sick to even think about.

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That post reflects a very low moment, but it also reflects a powerful moment that I won't soon forget. I can tell myself until I am blue in the face that "Little Bug was meant to be with us," but sometimes something just hits your heart as truth, and that is what happened to me that day.

Today Appa and I woke up early and nervously took our perfect little bug down to a nationally respected children's hospital to meet with a nationally respected pediatric neurologist who is a specialist in hypotonia. (Little Bug was a perfect angel who charmed the nurse, fellow, the Korean-born intern, and the actual neurologist with signs, silly smiles, and a riveting discussion about choo choos.) Today Little Bug got some of the best care in the country.

Because we could give it to him.

The BIG "why" question for each of us is one that can only be answered by someone's personal beliefs. It's not a question that really has an answer. But for my family, I truly believe that Appa and I are Little Bug's parents because we could give him what he needed. We live in a big city with excellent medical care and access to world-renown specialists and a plethora of qualified medical people. We have great insurance that allows us to easily access anything we could possibly want or need for him. We have jobs that give us the flexibility to take him to these appointments and to participate in his therapy. We have the means to buy him the therapy tools and toys he needs. We have the mental and physical capabilities to help him with all this therapy in the evening. I'm not bragging; I'm just being realistic and know that geographically or socially, not everyone would be able to provide these things for Little Bug with the same ease we are able. And, although I would have doubted it 2 years ago, Appa and I have the metal needed to parent a child with significant special needs. We advocate when we need to, we push when we need to, we relax when we need to, we hope when we need to (which is always), we accept when we need to, we argue or ignore when we need to, and most of all, we don't let it define our family. (It might seem like I very much have it define our family, but this blog is sort of lopsided as I use it to get out all those thought that don't actually permeate our daily lives.)

Dr. K told us today, in the most respectful, compassionate, and friendly tone that we were doing all we could. Little Bug is most likely never going to have an official diagnosis, and that is not a bad thing. That's actually a best case scenario in many ways.

However, something else she said resonated deep with me today. "I've been humbled enough to realize children are unknowns. All we can do is give them everything they need and wait and see."

Yes. This is true for every child, no matter what their personal struggle might be (and every kid has one, no matter how small). So, while we don't have a "why" for Little Bug's hypotonia, maybe we can help him someday understand that his "why" might be the same as his parents.

Because he can handle it…with perseverance that would shame most adults (including his mama), with a smile that melts even the hardest of doctors or therapists, and with a joy for life that makes the hard moments worth it and the good moments that much better. The real hero in Little Bug's life story is Little Bug. I hope that as Little Bug gets older, he is proud of what he has overcome and proud of what he might still endure. Appa and I certainly are.

Oh and the obvious other answer to my "why" question……it's because we are just so incredibly lucky and blessed. To have Little Bug as a son is the best thing that has ever, ever, ever happened to Appa and I.

Little Bug, when you one day read this, we love you, our undiagnosed, hyptonic, banana and balloon loving, silly smile throwing, raggie toting, carrot hating, crazy climbing, monkey hooting, cuddly little bug. Good job today, just like every day.