Wednesday, September 19, 2007

I don’t like the words damaged or can’t.
My son is technically brain damaged and according to the neurologist (whom I affectionately refer to as Dr. Gloom) his damage is severe. (Although, I wonder what he would say now if he were to see Elijah) This implies that there is something wrong with him, but to me my son is perfect. I don’t want Elijah to ever think that he is damaged goods. Yes, he had a rough start, but he is by no means damaged. If you break a leg, we don’t call you leg damaged. You simply broke your leg and when that heals, you can almost forget about it. That’s how I look at what happened to Elijah. He had an injury and needed (needs) to heal.
I understand how serious Elijah’s injury was, but I have no reason to think that he won’t be able to do just about anything. Can’t will not be in his vocabulary. I know he doesn’t understand me just yet, but I already tell him this. I tell him he can do anything and that there is absolutely nothing wrong with him. Perhaps it will soak into that little brain of his. So much already has. When he was in the hospital, I used to tell him every night what he needed to work on. It would be anything from getting his gag reflex, to crying, to rerouting his brain. Often I would come the next day and he would have done the thing that I had told him to work on. Now, of course I don’t think I’m the one who got Elijah to do the things I told him to do (we know who did that!), but I certainly don’t think it has hurt to talk to him about these things even when he doesn’t quite understand yet. One day he will understand and I can’t wait to tell him the story of his miraculous birth. I can’t wait to tell him how many people loved him before they even met him and how they prayed for him and God listened. I can’t help but think that God has a plan for the little guy. He has a plan for all of us.
Elijah and I spent a lot of time staring at each other today. We’re still trying to figure each other out. He’s not so sure about me. J One thing he is doing is holding onto my shirt now when I carry him around. I love that. He also likes to hold his head up when he’s being carried around and wants to see what’s going on. I thought it was so cute the first time he held onto my hair, but now he pulls it. He’s pulled out several of my hairs. I don’t care…well, not that much. J It’s been another great day and it keeps getting better.


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