The strongest person I know

Last week I had prayer on my mind and there was some wonderful discussion on BlogHer.  Over 1700 people read the post, which is testament to the site and to its reach throughout the world.

I have continued prayers for Lucas- whom I'm happy to report is on the mend, off of his ventilator, and may come back to Fargo from the U of M Hospital in a week or so.  What a difference a week makes. Lucas went from critical condition and a helicopter ride he might not have survived to sitting up, looking at books, and smiling. He's a fighter, that's for sure.  Prayers, energy, medicine... whatever you'd like to attribute his improvements to; he's improved.

This type of stuff changes you, you know?? This having a sick child, setting up camp in the hospital, wondering all the time if something will happen... I'm sure you're thinking I'm saying something so obvious; of course it changes people.  But I mean it REALLY  changes you.

I'm fortunate to know Lucas's mother and to have spent time with his family. We've been up in the hospital two or three times together and have a pretty good understanding of each others child's conditions. And there's something about that... the knowing what you know you'll go through. The knowing of the struggle that awaits. The knowing that the life you planned is going to be totally different and will include excruciating heartbreak.

'My guts are different' is the only way I can really describe how I feel since Rowan's diagnosis. My heart, my guts, my cells.  All have changed. There are some things I just don't care about anymore.  I have had a change of focus and now appreciate so much I feel I didn't even see before.  I'm overjoyed by some of the smallest things Rowan does and by what may seem to others to be little
accomplishments.  Lately, for example, he's been going up on his knees when lying on his tummy. He tries to use his arms a bit more, too.  This is huge, my friends.  I'm so sad to share that I kind of gave up for a couple of weeks after we brought Rowan home from his first two hospital stays. He was so lethargic and was nowhere to be found...My baby boy was just gone. I thought that he'd remain sedated and limp- and I conceded. I wasn't giving him any credit for how his sweet little brain could process when not wrecked with seizures. I didn't have a clue what he was capable of. I sold him short.

Now, thought- expectations have changed.  He's in therapy and seems to be doing well. He's, of course, no where near where other one-year-olds are.  He can't sit up, can't talk, cannot grasp anything for more than a second or two... but he can change your guts.

I wonder what the future holds for our little boy? I am excited to watch him touch others and learn in his own way at his own pace.

I know one thing; he has made me an entirely different human being... and for that, he's the strongest person I know.