1. Travis took his first steps.
We strapped him into a gait trainer the size of the U.S.S. Enterprise and with his therapist on one side and me on the other helping support his weight, he slowly, awkwardly criss-crossed and dragged his feet along the floor, collapsing into a chair halfway across the room.
It took what seemed forever and it was ugly. U-G-L-Y. So ugly that I had to fight back hot tears of complete and utter discouragement because hopeful vision is not always a strong suit and as I was trying to channel my inner Vince Lombardi and encourage T (who was sitting in the chair looking at me like “What just happened?”), the cheery little therapist
who could probably bench press a bear smiled and said, “I liked what I saw!”
And I looked at her like she had three heads and was lying through all those teeth.
And then she looked at Travis and said, “Let’s get back up, Mister. You’ve got to get back to the therapy table.”
And the mama in me thought, “Hasn’t he had enough? Didn’t we just put him through what most people will never have to endure? Should we give him a little bit of break? Try later?”
Translation? I was really discouraged by that and I don’t want it rubbed in, please.
And my brave, heroic, tougher-than-nails kid got back up, buckled his seatbelt(s), and proceeded to take THE MOST BEAUTIFUL STEPS I’VE SEEN IN MONTHS. Still tentative, still small, but that leg swung straight and true.
Hope wrapped in a blue cast.
Oh, sweet friends.
Don’t let struggle and discouragement keep you from trying again.
Have a nice day.