The other day a familiar scene unfolded at the grocery store. I was in the check out line. I had my son, Forest, strapped into the front of the cart, and my oldest son, Ocean, was standing in the back of the cart, handing the grocier the items.
The nice lady began having a conversation with Ocean, er, I should say a one-sided conversation. She was asking him his name, and his age, and a few other, general, friendly questions. It is always the age question that strikes me, though. I am not sure when I stopped explaining to others that my beautiful son has "failed to thrive" or "global delay" or whatever terms the doctors can give us for their effort to explain why our son is not growing or developing on an average level. But, now I just politely answer the questions for him and smile at the asker's quizzical expression. However, whenever I say "five", for that is how old he is now, I have to stop myself from grimacing. I am not grimacing at the nice lady, or at my wonderful son, but often at the thought that it was never supposed to go this far. By this age, the doctors were supposed to have figured out what was wrong with Ocean, and more importantly, my God could and would heal him.
Through the last five years, God has taught me that He is in control, that His ways are not our ways, and that He entrusted us with one of His most special children, Ocean. In doing that, He has given us the grace and strength to do what He has asked us to do, trust Him.
My placenta stopped producing amniotic fluid sometime in the last three weeks of my pregnancy. I was induced on my due date and twelve hours later, Ocean was born into the room full of specialists with worried looks on their faces. I found out later, that they didn't expect him to make it.
God gave us a special little boy. He started physical therapy at the age of two weeks. He couldn't straighten his arms or legs, and had a strong case of torticollis in his neck, causing his head to lean to one side. He was diagnosed with reflux at six weeks, he wouldn't keep any food down, and about the same time, we realized he wasn't gaining weight the way he should. The next few years were intense, to say the least. We visited every doctor, specialist, we or his pediatrician could think of. He had 3 different stays at the Children's Hospital, all to try to determine why he wasn't growing.
Emotionally, well, have you ever been on the wildest roller coaster known to man? That would describe our feelings as we plummeted down the rails of trying to find out what was wrong with our son.
At times, we desperately searched for an answer, we would ride high on the euphoria if we thought we had found it, we would wait in anticipation as we climbed, waiting to see if this was the answer and he would start to grow.
And, you know that sickening feeling when the car comes to a complete stop at the end of the ride? I feel as if we slammed into wall after wall of disappointment. Is there anyone to blame? No, no, no. I had to say that several times, because if I blamed anyone, it was myself. Somewhere I must have done something wrong.
God is so faithful. One afternoon, as I lay upon my bed praying to God. He spoke to me through Ecc 7:13 "Consider the work of God, for who can make that straight, which he hath made crooked?" God made my little boy just the way he is. wow
Now, back to the grocery store. Yes, it still hurts that Ocean is five, he isn't talking smoothly, although he does have some words. He is about the size of a 2 year old, and has the developmental level of a 2 year old, as well. Has God given us an answer yet? No, "the secret things belong unto the Lord our God, but those things which are revealed belong unto us and to our children for ever, that we may do all the words of this law."
By His grace, I can smile at the nice lady, and say "he is five, and doesn't talk alot, YET. But, God is good, isn't He?"
