I go through each day taking care of my little boy. I take him to his therapies, appointments, make sure he takes his meds, eats well, gets a good nap and receives approximately 453 kisses a day. In doing this I don’t think much about the fact that Jackson is different. He’s just my baby. Yes, he goes to therapy and has epilepsy that we must keep under control, but at the end of the day he is just a regular little boy to me. When you love someone you don’t spend your time focusing on their disabilities, you just focus on loving them. Inevitably something comes along every couple of months or so that reminds me that Jackson isn’t a normal little boy. This week I got the reminder.
As we transition Jackson into the Spokane Public School (SPS) system we had to have evaluations done. They need to know where Jackson is developmentally so we can create an appropriate plan for him. We could either have SPS or Jackson’s therapists at the Guild School do the evaluations. We chose his therapists at the Guild School because they know him better. So the last couple of weeks they have been testing him. On Monday we got our first evaluation from Jackson’s physical therapist. It was hard for me to read. Anything that is focused on Jackson’s disabilities is hard to read. Jackson’s physical development is currently rated at 6 months, which means his abilities are that of a 6 month old baby. When I read that it made me cry. I don’t really know why. I know Jackson isn’t a normal 2 year old. It doesn’t surprise me that he is at that stage. I guess maybe it is because we have just seen so much progress with him lately. I feel like he has been doing a little catching up. Then to read he is still so far behind it hurts my heart a little.
A couple of days later I was driving somewhere and there was a Mom with her little boy walking on the sidewalk. He was probably about Jackson’s age. It was so cute watching them on their walk and I suddenly felt sad that I can’t take little walks with Jackson. How I would love to hold his little hand every day and walk down to the mailbox to get our mail. There’s lots of little things I would love to do with my son, but can’t. Though I try not to think of them very often, they creep into my mind here and there. And I cry. Jackson is so beautiful and perfect to me. 98% of the time that is all I focus on. But the remaining 2% really, really hurts. I wish it would go away but I know it won’t. The trick is just getting through it. Or in my case, cry my way through it. I know from experience now that it will linger for a few days and then go away. Then life will get back to normal for me. A couple of bumps in the road this week, but the road is starting to smooth out again.