Trevy had a well visit last Friday. Evidently so did a whole buncha other families. Cause the waiting room was packed to capacity!
It just felt so surreal. For me. Actually, I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to knowing. What he's battled. And survive-ing.
But sitting there especially. Our first time back to the doctors. Since. Last time we sat in that room it was saturated with the seizures of (one of) the most courageous little boy I know. But not this time. This time it was saturated with all those rugrats running around. Trevy...all smiling eyes and crooked grin...right in the middle of the chaos. Soaking in everything. While I soaked him in. My heart so very full.
Pondering.
Overflowing.
Spreading upwards. Causing my eyes to shine so deeply I could feel the emotion ready to spill.
What a little miracle he is! Always has been!
His curls (that's right...we have CURLS!) have grown in enough that his scar is camoflauged. Mostly. Although even when it was glaring...it never seemed like anybody noticed anyway. Or at least they didn't want to ask. I was kinda hoping someone would. Cause even though I try really hard to control my(verbose)self...and not say anything. A part of me feels like everyone who meets him should know. That this little boy. With the crooked angel grin. Is an amazing. Brave. Scar headed. Miracle!
But he didn't really look like a miracle. There in the middle of all the kids. He just looked like one of them. And it was beautiful. And enough. That I knew.
And when he found the books. Over across the room. Books are his passion these days. When he chose one. And turned to flash his crooked grin. Just for me. Eyes shining. No longer foggy. And haunted. Just joyful. And beaming. Locked with mine from the other side of the room.
In that moment. Right in the middle of the waiting room. I thought my heart might burst.
Nope.
I'm not sure I'll ever get used to knowing...
...to belonging to that angel with the crooked grin!
It just felt so surreal. For me. Actually, I'm not sure if I'll ever get used to knowing. What he's battled. And survive-ing.
But sitting there especially. Our first time back to the doctors. Since. Last time we sat in that room it was saturated with the seizures of (one of) the most courageous little boy I know. But not this time. This time it was saturated with all those rugrats running around. Trevy...all smiling eyes and crooked grin...right in the middle of the chaos. Soaking in everything. While I soaked him in. My heart so very full.
Pondering.
Overflowing.
Spreading upwards. Causing my eyes to shine so deeply I could feel the emotion ready to spill.
What a little miracle he is! Always has been!
His curls (that's right...we have CURLS!) have grown in enough that his scar is camoflauged. Mostly. Although even when it was glaring...it never seemed like anybody noticed anyway. Or at least they didn't want to ask. I was kinda hoping someone would. Cause even though I try really hard to control my(verbose)self...and not say anything. A part of me feels like everyone who meets him should know. That this little boy. With the crooked angel grin. Is an amazing. Brave. Scar headed. Miracle!
But he didn't really look like a miracle. There in the middle of all the kids. He just looked like one of them. And it was beautiful. And enough. That I knew.
And when he found the books. Over across the room. Books are his passion these days. When he chose one. And turned to flash his crooked grin. Just for me. Eyes shining. No longer foggy. And haunted. Just joyful. And beaming. Locked with mine from the other side of the room.
In that moment. Right in the middle of the waiting room. I thought my heart might burst.
Nope.
I'm not sure I'll ever get used to knowing...
...to belonging to that angel with the crooked grin!
Comments
I really hope to be in that same place someday, looking back and remembering seizures as something from the dark distant past.
Regardless, our children are all little miracles who have fought (and are fighting) so hard each and everyday. I am so so happy for you and your family, and little Trevy.
LOVE the new banner! Thank you!
Barbara
B fam...we all need those beautiful powerful moments. I had them with Trevy when he was seizing too. Just different shades of beauty. (((hugs)))
Bibi...he may even be able to say your name by then!
Sharon...beautiful like your cakes! lol
Barbara...hmmmmm...sometimes things don't flow from my heart's eye to the post. He did look like one of the other kids. But different too. Glowy. Innocent. Courageous. Old soul. Twinkling eyes like he knows a secret. He is so very amazing! Actually...I find there is a similiar "something" in the faces of other IS kiddos. Maybe it's something special they share?
Anyway...
...danielle
...d
He's precious and yes, certainly, definitely, a miracle.
ABSOLUTELY AGREE!!
how awesome that must have felt for you seeing trevy blend into the herd of kiddos at the docs office. makes me teary because i wonder, hope, and pray that kylie will fall into place one day too.
there is soooo much life ahead of them, but one day at a time right :) too bad we are already thinking about their future and wondering how much will match with what we have pictured for them.
love, hugs, and prayers,
jody
Tears to my eyes, as usual.
And I totally relate to that feeling of wanting people to ask, i almost 'dare' them to! (so of course they don't as i must look like a right loon!!)
H is doing very well too, may all the IS sufferers get freedom from the monster, kt x
I read this holding my breath...And then, I, too, was thrilled to see that this was, on the outside anyway, a "normal" doctor's visit....HOORAY!!!
I have used the phrase about "having a secret" many times myself through Colby's life....And when my Daddy's ALS pretty much parylyzed him from the neck down, Colby would lean over to him, both in their wheelchairs, and Daddy would whisper to him about their "secret"....and Colby would just laugh and laugh....
Our kids DO have a secret.....So true, girl!!!
Cyndi