This is our oldest son, Andrew. Today would have been his 36th birthday. He was our first child. Just like many young adults, we were “kinda” prepared to become parents. I was 26, Tom was 27. We had been married almost three years. We had our own home, good jobs, baby clothes, a dog-eared copy of “What to Expect When You’re Expecting,” (this was pre-internet) a nursery full of baby furniture and families that were very excited for us. My pregnancy was unremarkable. But nobody is ever prepared to become the parents of a severely developmentally disabled child.
You know that part in the wedding vows where they ask the couple if they will be there for each other in sickness and in health? Usually, people think this refers to the couple themselves, and often it does. But sometimes it means the health of your parents or siblings or...children. And, whoa, we were completely blindsided by the birth and tragedy of our first child.
Thinking back, the fact that our marriage survived is nothing short of a miracle. Out of a soul-crushing event came the realization that our relationship was rock solid and built to last. We’ve been married nearly 39 years and I’m constantly reassured by that fact which is so important.
But this post is about Andrew, not us. He was a beautiful child that was only with us for 20 years. Our lives, and the lives of our other children, are better for having known him. Being Andrew’s mom was the honor of my life and I wouldn’t change anything that happened. The older you get, you realize that your journey, as bumpy as it is, forms you into the human being you are today. Thank you, Andrew, for being part of our story and thank you for watching over us and your siblings every single day. We love you forever.
Note: If you've never heard Andrew's story, you can read about it here or here and you can watch this video featuring music performed by Andrew's brother and sister:
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