“What makes an ‘uh’ sound?”
“A ‘u’, that says ‘uh.’”
“Are you sure?”
“Yeah, what are you trying to write?”
I listen to my older boys as they work together writing cards. Day after day we practice sounds, working our way through a textbook and sounding out signs and words we read while out and about. My heart swells, I am so proud of their efforts to learn and be independent. I kiss their sweet heads more often and hug them a little longer these days. My first babies.
The leaves of Fall have come and are on their way out. Tarp-full after tarp-full has been raked and dragged out back to the ever-growing pile. The blue jays are picking away at the gutters and the squirrels are storing up acorns. The same scenes every year are magnificent and comforting.
Weeks ago we spent a couple days in hospitals with Kash. A UTI that reached his one kidney; grounds for getting really bad, really fast. He lay on the hospital bed in and out of sleep and fevers, in and out of pain and anger and fear. He couldn’t tell us where it hurt and why. Couldn’t answer our questions. Always on high-alert and pleading, “ah dah, ah dah!” All done, all done. Praise God, at least he had those sounds to tell us he wanted to go home. They strapped a board under his arm and wrapped the IV tightly to it so he couldn’t pull it out as he thrashed. He screamed and screamed, his terrified eyes begging us to understand.
My mind raced back to the previous to hospital trips we’d had with our now-middle child, Caleb. Was he scared? Absolutely. But he knew we were right there, and that comforted him. There was chaos but his world was still steady.
How different life is for Kash. I’ve counted seven different homes he has lived in, for various amounts of time. Some long, some very short. Some probably trying to be stable, but unable, and some quickly passing him off to the next. How does a delayed, nonverbal child process trauma and insanity?
Josh stayed at the second hospital with Kash while I went home for Levi and Caleb. When we were finally able to drive up and get them, I admit I was nervous. Did Kash believe we had done all this to him? That we’d made him wallow in pain and purposely terrify him in a hospital? It had sure seemed like it. Would he be angry to see me? Would he even want to go home, to our home, or would he be anticipating another drive to somewhere new?
I parked in the parking garage. We had bought special donuts to share with Daddy and Kash and I prayed they’d at least spark a smile. We walked around and waited outside the elevator doors. Finally, Josh came out carrying Kash. What a long few seconds it was, watching Kash’s confused little face as I smiled and tried to determine what emotion he was feeling - if he even knew what he was feeling. They came closer and stopped next to me and the other boys, and slowly… Kash leaned out of Josh’s arms and into mine. I hid a tear and held him as we walked back to the car. Lord, thank You.
Something changed for him in the hospital. He began following me around like a lost puppy. Anywhere and everywhere I went, he went. His little hands held on to the kitchen sink as I did dishes, his long lashes and nose sticking out from under his full head of hair, watching intently. “Uh pah, uh PAH,” he would ask every few minutes. Up, up. Had he ever been snuggled and nurtured as a newborn? There are so many gaps. I held him close.
He jumped ahead a bit developmentally, and we were stunned. Then came some of the hardest days yet. I thought it would be hard to beat the intense struggle of that first month he was with us, but I was wrong. Night after cruel night; day after day he and I limped to the finish line. Days when Levi would rub my back and Caleb would come to me with pained eyes, “Mommy, don’t cry anymore.” I held them close.
Someday my older boys will understand. For now, they just know that there are days when we all struggle and there are days we all are light as a feather. They know that Kash pushes me in ways no one else has, and they are the first to remind me - “Don’t be easily upset, Momma.” We go for walks and breathe in deep. We open windows and sing worship music. We stop mid-meltdown and ask Jesus for help, and oh how He does. We find things to laugh about and places to jump and climb and explore. One day at a time, our spiral is moving upward.
Someday, Kash will talk. And maybe someday, he will share his story. There are many more things I don’t share here than things I do. His story is his, and I pray the Lord saves his soul and gives him joy in his testimony.
The blue jays find seeds and fly away. The squirrels bound across the yard, mouths full of acorns. The earth keeps spinning; its rhythmic, routine course. Such comfort our Creator instilled in our universe. I hear all three of my boys laughing and giggling… my heart swells.
“You are worthy, O Lord, to receive glory and honor and power;
for You created all things, and by Your will they exist and were created.”
Revelation 4:11
