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Jul 06

Happy Birthday My Sammy

Ten years.

Sam has always been the child who taught me.  Sammy is the child who pushes me out of my comfort zone, who forces me to dig deep and be the mother he needs.  This year is no exception.

I’m finding today to be bittersweet.  It’s his birthday, and I want so much for him to be able to celebrate like he does every year.  But he can’t, not the way he used to be able to celebrate.  He can’t really see anything more than a few feet away from him.  He won’t participate in an eye exam, and the glasses I begged for aren’t helpful.  So he doesn’t wear them.

I worry about him.  All the time.   I wake up in the middle of the night and start to think, and then I get upset and end up lying there forever, thinking about his future and what it’ll be.   I worry and worry and worry – it feels like a bad dream and I just want to have it all over.  I want his face to be perfect, without a scar all over his chin.  I want him to be able to see and read and write and draw and play legos.

This is a really hard birthday for me.

I’m trying to find solace and grace.  Trying to be grateful for all that he has – his diet is getting better, he can eat a whole bunch of different things now.  He can run around with his friends and go swimming.  There’s a big long list of stuff that he’s added back into his life, and it helps nobody, least of all Sam, for me to looking back wistfully and panicking about what the future might hold.


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