Sometimes So Is Life

I've been holding onto some thoughts lately. Thoughts I'd like to hold in until I can find the time and the words to wax eloquently about them. It's not happening - the time or the eloquence.

It seems sometimes life is. There are no other words. It goes, you follow - nuf' said.

I made another visit to the pediatric neurologist today with Max. It's funny to think that just one year ago I had such heavy emotions about this and now I know the ladies in the office and it feels just like any other appointment with Max.

This one, however, was different. It was. I felt. I thought. We left.

Still thinking.

The neurologist thought everything would be resolved by now. It's not. "He definitely has pronounced weaknesses. Your observations are right on," he told me.

"Think about a biopsy." "I'm thinking he may have one of several rare muscular diseases." "Drugs won't change him." "Could be genetic." "Could be passed to future children." "We know it's not a serious one." "Let's watch and talk in December."

There were many more words, questions, discussions between us. He sat with me a good 15 or 20 minutes hashing it out. He gave me an out with the biopsy option and I took it. So we made an appointment for December and then we left.

I am still a bit numb. Like I said before, it is what it is. I don't know what the future holds for Max. But then, if he had no weakness, I still wouldn't know what his future holds.

I tell myself this is not a big deal. I think. I pray. I keep going. I waffle between letting go of athletic dreams for him to seeing him train for a race with me someday.

Then I think, so what. So what if he never plays soccer or football. So what if he never runs as fast as everyone else (I can keep him company there). So what if he has a muscle condition.

Max is a gift. He's just the way God made him. I get to be his mom and I think that's pretty great no matter what. I love him - fiercely.

It's not eloquent. It's not poetic. But it is. And sometimes, so is life.