...only a year and then he's gone... (Part 1, birth through 5)

In years past, in the week leading up to his birthday, I've shared via social media my version of a highlight reel of Mister Man's life thus far.  I don't remember when I started, but over the years it's become a tradition.   I get to "dig" through Shutterfly, reminiscing and reliving what life was like when he was 1 and 2 and 7 and 13...  I get to remind myself of each lost love...each version of him that he was and will never be again.  

I decided, before I get going on this year's batch, to compile some of the old ones here.

So let's get started...

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This. The very beginning.
I was young, married, and woefully ignorant of what was to come.
He was early, huge, and instantaneously the love of my life.

Underneath every day, I hear it...the ticking clock.

 Counting down the hours until the babe I carried goes off into an adventure of his own making - leaving me behind with a heart full of memories and moments. 

Little did I know at just that moment of wonder, how a heart can be broken and built all at the same time and how it happens over and over again in motherhood. 

What I did know at just that moment was that a new adventure had just begun...

One day in and I was equal parts delighted and petrified. My heart was forever outside of me now.  Every moment was miraculous and I remember just watching and watching...every breath, every expression... I couldn't get enough.

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0)

How funny it is to note the number up there!  But here it was, the very beginning.

Already a miracle, a marvel...and the absolute love of his mother's life.

He came early.  Eager to get started.

I was so young...so ill equipped...but thankfully, he's taken me along for the ride even so...

And taught me how to be his Mami.

I sang lullabies to lull him to sleep...then wished he were still awake.

Those hands fisting up clenched my heart something fierce.

One of the final pictures with my then-husband. These many years later I can finally say it's okay. It's okay to look at this picture. Because out of all that pain and misery and agony, not only did I survive, but I received the greatest gift of all. Were it not for that marriage I wouldn't have my son. Here, directly after his baptism. I remember his infuriated cries when the minister anointed him with water.

The truth is in the pictures, I should say. It's easy to see, as in this one, how absolutely and completely I fell in love with this little one.

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1)
That first year rushed by, despite every attempt to slow it down. From babe in arms, to child on hip. He grew at an alarming rate, or so his Mami thought! Giggles and grins, from morning to night.
And his sweet disposition kept me well distracted as "the rest" fell apart. Our world was changing...quickly, violently, and sadly.

But this trooper had a smile on his face that wiped away all my fears.

Early spring 2004: by then we were already a team of just two.  I clearly remember this day at the arboretum with then-friends from the Bexley mom's club...and how crushed I was when those same friends vanished as news of my separation spread.  But, that day...before Easter, that day was good.  We packed a picnic, cameras, and a few props (baby blanket, rocking horse) and headed out to get gorgeous photos with Mellody and baby Claire...both kids were far more interested in trying to break and eat the tulips than in smiling at our cameras!
Note the ensemble...looking back, J-bug lived in blue/green outfits those first years...probably because I get stuck in ruts and his nursery theme/baby clothes were from the Peter Rabbit line all rendered in blue/green/white....

Up and at'em, at one year.  Waiting, rather impatiently, for his most favourite person...

the mailman!

How very young I look here!

How very small he looks here!

In my heart, he is still just as small...just as sweet.

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2)
A whirlwind of change, and he sailed on through. The second year was a vast departure from the first, navigating single parenthood and all the ups and downs it brought.
Diagnoses had already been accumulating by the time his 2nd birthday rolled around.

Such a bittersweet memory.
He was, as always, just himself. No label. No scientific terminology. No limits.

Coordinated ensembles...a standard sight in those early day!

Here, a birthday pickup from his special needs preschool.

His grandmother fought cancer once again...and showed her grandson the price of survival.
I look at this picture and I see his eyes and the way his hand is clutching.  There was no way he was letting go of her before he was ready.

A moment of wonder...and what's to come...

Grandson watching Grandad shave.

Always ready~willing~eager to make new friends.

Particularly if they don't talk back!

These many years later, I can tell you, my life still looks just like this!

I'm still his most favourite jungle gym!

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3)
Pictured here with his grandmother.
Just look at the serious active listening.
Bookworms are sooo last year...It's book-bugs now!
At 3, already a seasoned student at his special needs preschool.
Still nonverbal, but the best listener! And we had by then developed our own mode of communication.
Funny to think how often we slide back into it now! Thank goodness for expressive faces!

Right around his 3rd birthday. J-bug had a whopping collection of 'bug' shirts by this point, and I'm fairly certain at least a few people thought his nickname was his real name!  By this time he had been diagnosed, therapied and attending a special-needs preschool for over a year.  Still non-verbal, but we had our own communication language.  I remember being so busy that whole year...trying to fit in work and school and therapy, etc...while still making every day full of regular childhood moments.  By this point in time I had already inundated myself with the stress of trying to be everything at once… Trying to provide this fabulous child with all the experiences and joys that, in my own convoluted way, I thought he would have had were he raised in a two-parent home.

These years since have tamped down some of his eagerness, but I remember the young years when he knew no limits. My whirling dervish. A total daredevil. Here, roller skating for the first time and letting go right away!

If ever there was a photo that captured my life as his mother, it's this! 
Always in his sights.
Always thrown off balance.
Always smiling wider than I thought I could!

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4)
As the years go by, little moments fade away into the ether. And I mourn them, knowing I'll never have them again. But this photo...this photo was the key to remembering how every single time we went for a walk he had to bring home a new stick to add to the pile we had on our patio.
Every walk.
A new stick.
Can you just imagine how big that pile became?!?

Just this weekend, we went for a hike.
No surprise, he found a stick to walk along with!

Four years old and chock-full of personality. One of the many, many blessings in getting to be this boy's mother is that he has always been such a joy for me.  While he struggled to express himself and communicate with others, our bond has always been based in love and laughter.  Since day one I have always said that we have to seek out our happy each and every day… And it has been a wonderful journey so far seeking out something joyous in each and every day with him.  There have been struggles… Oh boy, have there been struggles… But I'm so relieved that I'm able to say even in our darkest times, we found something to be happy about every single day of his life.

Those first years were hard.

I often look back and wonder how I made it through, intact.

But then I've only to look at pictures like this one, and there's the answer.

I was never silly before.
I was never comfortable before.
But this one came steamrolling into my life and flipped everything upside down. I'll do anything to make him smile!

Can you feel that gentle tug on the heartstrings?

Time and again I've called him the boy of a hundred smiles.

There's the shy, polite smile. The hopeful smile. The apologetic smile. The forgiving smile. The smile he gives to friends. And the one he shares with family. There's a special smile just for Henry.
And then there's mine.
I watch the others come and go throughout the days. And take quiet delight in knowing there's one that only I ever get to see...

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5)
This.
Is the boy I know.
He's hidden away inside for the most part now, cloaked in the shyness and reserve that comes from years of being shamed.
But once upon a time, he was 5. And he was free. He was friendly and outgoing and bold. And he made a friend, poking his head round the aisle at the natural food store just up the street. He made a friend for life, playing peek-a-boo. He tugged on my hand to let me know he wanted to share his once-a-week treat (a dark chocolate bar) with this stranger. And within a matter of minutes, chocolate had made lifelong friends of us all.

An apt photo even now: in his own little world.

By the time Spring '08 rolled around we were ready for a new chapter and doing our very best to end the previous one on a high note! This photo, taken at one of our favourite spots (Jeffrey Mansion-a few blocks from where we lived) was from one of our goodbye-days as we gathered with friends near and dear as often as possible before we moved away.  On this particular day I remember we joined up with some of J-bug's friends from his preschool...and whiled away the afternoon playing.  Those friendships were amazing to watch develop.  And so very hard to let go of…

And so the next chapter again. Those first few months on the east coast were a flurry of activity...we dove right in as best we could.  I think J-bug's shirt here really says it all..."it seemed like a good idea at the time".  Little did we know in those early moments that we had essentially jumped out of the frying pan and directly into the fire.  If I were to sum up that first year for my son I think I would have to say he was all shook up. New faces, new places, new routines… He was getting it on all sides with no let-up.  I remember thinking in moments that keeping him busy all the time with all these experiences was a great way to stave off the inevitable meltdown.

I remember when his grandparents insisted on sports-play, sure that his spatial relations would improve if only I would teach him baseball...basketball...etc...
Swing and a miss, folks! That ball never moved.

Halfway through this first decade...solidly 5 and solidly himself.  Can you see the giggle in his eyes?!?  My own little whirling dervish, J-bug really came into his own the year I homeschooled.  We spent the year before he entered kindergarten learning all the kindergarten through first grade academics, solely so that he wouldn't fall behind if overwhelmed by the sensory/social dynamics of a public school setting.  Prior to pregnancy, I had always imagined that if and when I had children I would likely homeschool them for a good portion of their younger school years, so at least this was a step on a path that felt familiar.  Little did I know then that the boy who had not spoken was an absolute teeming mass of curiosity and latent knowledge.  What an absolute roller coaster homeschooling was that year… So much work to do in so little time… But our little team really pulled together.  To this day I supplement his public-school education with homeschooling… About 15 hours weekly during the school year and 30 during breaks.  And the boy whose first diagnostician had nothing but no's and negatives to offer has never once gotten less than straight A's on his report cards and broken the curve on statewide testing.

A weekend trip to the bay garnered us this delight… Feeding the ducks and geese from sunrise to sundown. I remember him commanding them to follow him from one side of the dock to another. And looking at those hands of his, how he would scold them for being piggies!

Among what I'd like to believe are the many things my son has inherited from me, he definitely got my face.  Now I'm not talking about his features, though clearly some of those don't fall far from my genetic tree… I mean his expressions.  Whether inherited  or learned, his face is like mine...a blank canvas across which expressions-moods-reactions dance with wild abandon.  It is rare, to this day, that I am able to keep a pleasantly blank expression on my face.  And so it is with him. He has these fabulous, thick eyebrows that crawl all over depending on what he's saying. I always refer to them as caterpillars.  And I always know that if the caterpillars aren't crawling when he talks, he's not feeling well.

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~Leanna