One

The one-year anniversary of Joel’s due date has been bittersweet. In so many ways, I am grateful beyond words for where we are. Joel is a beautiful, chubby, happy baby boy and a delight in my life. He is taking cautious first steps and beginning to show signs that ornerier times are in store for us. I am having to lock cabinets, pry his hands from his sisters’ hair, chase him out of laundry piles, and scoop him up when he falls from trying to walk or climb where he shouldn’t. At first glance, it looks like we’ve made it.

And then you look closer. Joel’s language and communication development--even for his adjusted age--falls at least 4 months behind. He doesn’t wave, point, imitate. He doesn’t follow commands or seem to recognize names of objects on their own. The speech therapist in me panicks as I recognize many of the red flags I’ve been trained to look for in infants that may go on to have language disorders or other cognitive or learning problems down the line. I find myself overwhelmed when I try to play the part of interventionist with my own son, once again feeling inadequate. Having two other children who need Mom doesn’t afford me the luxury of dropping everything to engage Joel in hours of one-on-one learning time. Rainbows United is working alongside us, and we do what we can at home, but I know it’s not enough, and I feel like I’m failing him.

Beyond the cognitive piece, we are still seeking answers for some of Joel’s health-related issues, too. We see a pulmonologist in the middle of June to hopefully identify the source of Joel’s chronically noisy, labored breathing and propensity for respiratory distress with even minor illnesses. Potential diagnoses of tracheomalacia and asthma have been kicked around, but neither has been officially confirmed. We’ve considered following up with the ear, nose, and throat specialist, too. Joel had ear tubes placed in December, and while I feel as though his hearing has improved as a result of fluid not building up in his ears constantly, I don’t know that the issue has been 100% resolved. Joel frequently bats at his ears still, and we have had drainage from his ears at least a couple of times over the past few months. I wonder if his ability to hear is still variable, which wouldn’t help his lagging language development in the least.

It is so easy to let all these things rob me of joy in watching Joel learn and grow, in treasuring this time of his life for what it is--a precious fleeting gift. These problems are so small in the grand scheme of things! And yet It is so easy to get trapped in fear and guilt--guilt for not carrying him full term, guilt for not doing enough to intervene on his behalf, guilt for comparing him to his sisters who did everything early and with total ease, guilt for feeling heartsick as if the amazing work God has done so far in Joel, in me, in our whole family isn’t enough. It’s as if I can’t quite get my footing. I don’t know how to feel, how to move.

In a blog post I wrote shortly after Joel’s birth, I mentioned feeling simultaneously robbed and blessed, heartbroken and immensely grateful. I find myself right there all over again, and to be perfectly honest, I hate being there. I feel like I should know better by now.

And this is where I take my thoughts captive and turn to Jesus again, with my heart throbbing and my head spinning. A giant, “I’m sorry” wells up with the tears in my eyes as I pray to be picked back up...again. I pray that God would realign my perspective. I want my own assumptions and fears to be replaced with peace and confident faith that my chunky, drooling monster has never been an afterthought in God’s eyes. There is a plan for his life. There is provision. There is protection. There is love running through an eternal timeline that pours into Joel’s life, my life. And I want to walk in wisdom on the path God has set before us instead of obsessing about a journey I have conjured up on my own.

Let me hear of your unfailing love each morning, for I am trusting you. Show me where to walk, for I give myself to you. Psalm 143:8

Wrapped up in the arms of Jesus, grace washes over me, and gratitude becomes the lens through which I view life once again. There is beauty in this season for me, for Joel. There is hope here, too. So grateful God isn’t done with either one of us yet!

Yet God has made everything beautiful for its own time. He has planted eternity in the human heart, but even so, people cannot see the whole scope of God’s work from beginning to end. Ecclesiastes 3:11