So I got out my laptop just now, with thoughts swirling around. I have been composing a post since Friday. I have taken notes and even recorded some thoughts on my phone (mostly to get them off the track in my head.)
But as I waited for my connection to load, I realized the story I want to tell is not mine to tell. At some point, it may be my version of his story, but for today, for the first time, it is not my place to talk. Yet.
What I can say, is that Nick’s speech therapist touched on a diagnosis. Neurological in nature. It is not a diagnosis, yet. But it may be in the future.
I planned to tell you all about it. Explain it. Tell you the ways it makes perfect sense and also tell you the ways in which it just doesn’t fit. Tell you how it has brought me to my knees with sadness, made my chest tighten and my limbs go numb.
But also the strength it has brought me. A fierce mom who is ready to delve into learning everything and anything about this new path that may await us.
I remind myself that Nick is the same loving, wonderful boy that he was before a label was dangled near him. He hasn’t changed. That fact brings calmness to me. That and his infectious giggle and huge grin.
I certainly don’t mean to sound dark or dramatic. There are plenty of worse things going on right now to children all over the world.
I will always be his loudest advocate and strongest supporter. But for today, I have to think about his future and how he will feel reading this someday. Nick, I love you more than you could ever know.