As parents, we can't wait for all those firsts with our children. The first step, the first word, the first time they sleep through the night (my personal favorite). But what about the lasts?
Think about it. There is going to be a day when you can't scoop up your crying child into your arms because they are too heavy. There will be a time when your son won't want you to kiss him goodbye right in front of his friends. Don't you wish you would know when that exact last time was going to be, so you could cherish every second of it?
All parents concentrate on the firsts. But parents with children who have disabilities really linger on them. Why? Probably because we wait so much longer for them. We have to work so much harder for them. They don't come naturally. There is a lot of tears and heartache and sweat behind many of the firsts.
The upside to this battle? I get those lasts. I get them drawn out. No time soon will my kindergarten boy push his mama away. He lives for the physical contact. He craves the deep pressure hugs. I am his security blanket in this world that he has such a hard time figuring out.
This whole train of thought came to me this afternoon while Corbin, Brian, and I sat under a blanket on the couch reading books. Corbin was next to me while Brian was lying in my lap. I soon noticed his breathing had become very regular and he seemed a bit more limp. I leaned forward slightly to see his eyes closed and his mouth gaped open with a slight trace of drool in the corner of his lips. I looked at his sweet face. I traced the line of his cheek with my index finger. It had been awhile since he had fallen asleep on my lap. In fact I'm not sure if I could put a finger on the last time he had done so. So, I laid on that couch with him for a good thirty minutes. I wanted to cherish it. I don't know if it will be our last.