8 years old.
5 feet tall.
What is actually happening right now?!

This journey kid, the road we’ve been on, the one none of us planned for, but you’ve been certain of since day one – it’s been, well, a Hurricane.

But you always know exactly where we’re going somehow; and you have no problem taking our hands and pulling us toward your intention. We can lose track of time in conversations, wondering what to do next. Where do we go from here, what’s the next step? What’s best for him, what is going to make him happiest?

“Let’s go swimming” is usually the answer.

We’ve gone from anxiously waiting to find out which one of us you’d call by name first, to hoping you spoke at all at some point, to answering questions at rapid fire pace in efforts to ease your anxiety about whatever it is you’re anticipating.

We’ve gone from making excuses as to why you wouldn’t crawl, to preparing for physical therapy intervention for your late walking, to always keeping your hand in ours because if you run we’re not certain we can catch you.

So here we sit, across from you, on your 8th birthday.
Looking at your smile, amazed at your abilities, and so proud of your perseverance. You have come so much farther than so many “experts” have given you credit for. You’ve blown therapists away, and you’ve floored us with your memory a thousand times.

We are so proud of you, Bub.
Happy Birthday, kid. We love you to pieces!

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