Happy 2nd Birthday, Cannonball!

Henry is two years old today.

And while he's certainly on a different track than typical 2-year-olds, he is who he is.  While there are times when I'm wistful that he doesn't speak, and that I'm not sure that he listens to us, his unique qualities are what make him unique, and therefore, our boy.

He's made so many milestone leaps this year that I have trouble remembering them all or when they precisely occurred.

• He's now able to crawl on his hands and knees, though not for very long or very far.
• He's grasping pieces of food with his hands and bringing them to his mouth.
• He walks from place to place in the house by himself and is starting to show signs of running.
• He understands certain words or unspoken meanings when we ask him to find a page in his baby farm animals book.
• He can squat down to pick up an object off of the floor.
• He can lower himself to the floor, as long as he's bracing onto a larger object like a couch or the entertainment center.
• He can climb onto the couch and also climb off of it (helps that he's the height of a 4 year old).

I'd be lying if I said that I didn't wish things were different, that I wish he wouldn't have been affected by Fragile X, so that I could hear what goes on in his mind because he's apparently got a whole world going on in that giant skull.  I don't know when or how we can potty-train him, and that worries me a lot.

Then again, I hardly think there's a person out there who thinks "gosh, it'd be great if my kid could have a disability of some kind!"

This doesn't mean that I regret him or the circumstances.  Far from it.  It may not have been what we'd have wished for, but it's the situation that we have.  So we all buckle down and go to work.  Because for as difficult and as scary as the future is (because I'd also be lying if I didn't worry about what would happen to the kids with their anxieties and communication issues if we weren't around anymore), it's what we know and what they know.  This isn't their fault or ours.  It just is.  Sometimes, it's just the accompanying burden of knowledge.

And then, how can I look at this face, hear his laugh, or feel his hand in mine, and not feel my heart swell?