When the Abnormal Becomes Normal

Yesterday evening, Sophia rediscovered a ball pit toy that we had stored in our attic. The ball pit was a gift for her second birthday. I was actually amazed when she acted as though she’d never seen it. I mean we didn’t put it in the attic the day after she received it. The giant thing hung out in our play room for years being ignored. So, yesterday, the ball pit had its second chance in the play room. (the normalcy is coming)

David came up where I was blowing the pit up (don’t worry, I was using a small air pump that Granna so smartly bought for David a few years back). He sat Elijah in the pit and Eli just thought that was grand. He sat there watching as the air made each section expand and play its part. David moved the balls around Eli and he liked that.

I teared up watching my son be normal and then I realized, he is my normal. He is normal. We are normal again. No outsider would call us normal. In fact, early in the evening I was answering probing questions from our sweet neighbor kids who will watch Eli grow up, too. One asked why Elijah needs “all this” to eat as she pointed at his IV pole and the odd bag on it. I just responded “he needs it to gain weight quicker.” She and I were fine with my normal answer. Another child asked why he has so many boo boos on his skin. I said “that’s just his skin and it doesn’t hurt him, here touch it.” She and I were fine with my normal answer. “Why are his hands like that?” My response, “They just are.” (okay, I admit that one is a really hard one to answer, but still a pretty normal answer.)

I'm really glad they didn't ask me why he's been a baby for such a very, very, very, very long time. No way to really make that normal.

So, from the at least "semi-normal" Ramirezes, thanks for your prayers. Elijah has a way to go.

With love,
Melissa