Reflective

Here I am, nearly two years later, reflecting on all that is.

When Mike and I received the news that were were having a baby, we were elated.  After six months of "trying" and two months of "really trying", our dreams were becoming a reality.  Three months later we received the news that our unborn angel appeared to have his heart on the wrong side of his chest.  

I will say, living with this secret nearly killed me.  I didn't want people to know.  I didn't want people to feel sorry for me.  I didn't want people to take pity on me.  I hate pity.  So, I lived with this pain.  

I prayed every single day, a million times a day, that God would heal my angel.  That whatever it was, that he would just make it better.  Every single day.  

We had showers honoring our baby boy.  People gathered to give gifts and see a pregnant me.  With a false smile, I forged ahead.  Celebrating with a secret is hard.  I smiled for pictures with a broken heart. 

We went diligently to our monthly appointments with our specialist.  We saw how he was growing and got to see his sweet face.  Still, the pain of not knowing was terrible. 

The not knowing.  Not knowing what?  Not knowing if he was going to live.  Not knowing if his heart was going to beat once he was born.  Not knowing if he was going to breathe on his own.  Not knowing what was wrong with our baby.  It's the not knowing that will kill.

Fast forward.  Through nearly two years of hospitalizations and doctors and nurses.  Through rides in ambulances and pleas to God to "make it better."  Through episodes of literally saving my son's life.  Through amazingly supportive friends and family.  Through words spoken on deaf ears.  

I sit here today, the mother of the most amazing little boy on the Earth.  Wyatt is head strong, funny, intelligent and a ball of energy.  He is always on the go and relentless.  He is loving and concerned for others.  He is my angel on Earth. 

You see, during these past two years, I have lived with every emotion imaginable.  I was angry that God would do this to my son.  I was fearful that I would lose him.  I was so happy to be a mother.  I was jealous of mothers of healthy babies, who I didn't feel deserved that honor.  Most of the time, these emotions got the best of me.  Most of the time, I couldn't see the other side.

Two years in, I get it.  I get the big picture.  My prayers never feel on deaf ears.  My prayers were not in vain.  Wyatt is perfect; the truest vision of perfection.  Every day I see the healing.  I see him getting stronger.  I experience the miracle that I have been given.  I live in perfection.

While I didn't want to hear others tell me that God knew what he was doing, those words were planted, like a root in my soul.  I didn't want to hear that in fact God had given me a gift, not a punishment.  Looking back, I know that pain was at the root of all my anger.  I did feel like I was being punished.  Often I would look back at the mistakes I have made in my life, and analyze each and every one, valuing them to see which one caused this heartbreak.  Now I realize, I was looking in the wrong place.  I analyzed the mistakes as if this was a punishment.  Not the successes with Wyatt as my reward.  

I have been given the most amazing gift.  I struggle daily with being a good mother.  Not giving Wyatt limits.  Allowing him to fall and get back up.  I realize that I will struggle for the rest of my life with these things, but I am so thankful I am able to do just that.  Able to have this perfect life in which I have been given.

Just what I needed

The past two days have been tough.  Mike and I have been house hunting.  Because I have gone back to work (even just part time) we are able to purchase a home that we really love and one that we are able to grow with.  I won't bore you with details, but just stay a prayer for us.  It's a crazy emotional journey.  

Also this week, it has come to my attention that Wyatt is at "that stage".  The stage where he wants me all of the time one minute, then wants nothing to do with me, the next.  It has literally broken my heart.  

At any rate, today has been a sad one for me.  I don't know why, just a down day.  I logged into Facebook and checked my "groups".  I am a member in tons of amazing groups from Moebius Moms to Moms of Trach Babies (MOTB).  Both of the aforementioned groups have been great for me.  They are both full of moms who are living with the same "stuff" we are.  It's awesome to have that kind of support.  Anyway, when I checked the MOTB group, a mom had posted the poem below.  Of course when I read it, I couldn't stop crying.  It was exactly what I needed.  It's the story of my life.  I feel as though this poem was written for me. 

I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. 

The Special Mother 

by Erma Bombeck

Most women become mothers by accident, some by choice, a few by social pressures and a couple by habit.  This year nearly 100,000 women will become mothers of handicapped children. Did you ever wonder how mothers of handicapped children are chosen? 

Somehow I visualize God hovering over earth selecting his instruments for propagation with great care and deliberation. As He observes, He instructs His angels to make notes in a giant ledger. 

"Armstrong, Beth; son. Patron saint...give her Gerard. He's used to profanity." 

"Forrest, Marjorie; daughter. Patron saint, Cecelia." 

"Rutledge, Carrie; twins. Patron saint, Matthew." 

Finally He passes a name to an angel and smiles, "Give her a handicapped child."  The angel is curious. "Why this one God? She's so happy." 

"Exactly," smiles God, "Could I give a handicapped child to a mother who does not know laughter? That would be cruel." 

"But has she patience?" asks the angel. 

"I don't want her to have too much patience or she will drown in a sea of self-pity and despair. Once the shock and resentment wears off, she'll handle it." 

"I watched her today. She has that feeling of self and independence that is so rare and so necessary in a mother. You see, the child I'm going to give her has her own world. She has to make her live in her world and that's not going to be easy." 

"But, Lord, I don't think she even believes in you." God smiles, "No matter, I can fix that. This one is perfect - she has just enough selfishness." The angel gasps - "selfishness? is that a virtue?" 

God nods. "If she can't separate herself from the child occasionally, she'll never survive. Yes, here is a woman whom I will bless with a child less than perfect. She doesn't realize it yet, but she is to be envied. She will never take for granted a 'spoken word'". She will never consider a "step" ordinary. When her child says 'Momma' for the first time, she will be present at a miracle, and will know it!" 

"I will permit her to see clearly the things I see...ignorance, cruelty, prejudice....and allow her to rise above them. She will never be alone. I will be at her side every minute of every day of her life, because she is doing My work as surely as if she is here by My side". 

"And what about her Patron saint?" asks the angel, his pen poised in mid-air. 

God smiles, "A mirror will suffice."

Promises, promises

While I realize I make promise after promise to be a better blogger, I simply am not.  So, no more promises, I promise!

Honestly though, I have started and not finished in excess of a dozen blogs.  All started when I was in a bad place, emotionally.  I never intended for this blog to be a teary eyed, poor pitiful me rant.  This journey has been tough, I won't lie.  But, being on this side of what I pray is the worst of it, I feel terrible that I subjected you all to my sadness.  But I thank you all for your steadfast commitment to supporting me and encouraging me through it all.  I know that I would never have been able to be where I am without each and every one of you. 

Since it has been nearly six months since you last heard from me, I'll try the best I can to summarize what has been going on in our "Crazy Carcione" home.

Wyatt has had one hospital over night stay since we last spoke.  After going to the ER twice, spending the night in the PICCU, going to our ENT's office and a month of calling our ENT repeatedly, Wyatt was scoped at which time they found that our little goat had swallowed a foreign object (the tip from on of his medical supplies that was suppose to be thrown away) lodged in his throat.  They said that had he not had a trach, he would have chocked to death.  Nice.  Thank God it did no harm.  I won't bore you with the details, just suffice it to say that a mother's intuition is never wrong!

Our Peanut is now a crawler and a stander.  Yes, we are mobile!  It's a scary thing, really.  Knowing that you can no longer protect them in a perfect bubble.  Pillows no longer stop topples.  And our boy is on the move!  It's as though he is making up for all of that immobile time.  He is constantly moving.  Even when he lays down to sleep, he keeps moving.  It's crazy.  Our therapists in PT and OT had him fitted for AFO's (braces for his ankle/feet) to help in standing and walking.  While he isn't overly concerned with walking yet, the AFO's are certainly doing their job.  Every day I am amazed at how much stronger he is getting all over, in general.  They really give him the support he needs in order to have the confidence to stand. 

So I know that all parents think their children are smart, my I know mine is a genius (as I had to concentrate on how to spell the word).  He is simply mind blowing.  I mentioned the AFO's above, but they only work when they are on his feet.  Wyatt has mastered the Velcro and can successfully remove them, himself.  He puts them on himself, but can't get them on his whole foot, just yet.  He is obsessed with zippers.  Have I mentioned his fine motor skills?  They are creepy!  He holds the tiniest of things.  I mean, what child at 20 months old can do the things he does?  He knows most of his body parts, by name when asked to point to them.  While he is still non-verbal, he can scream.  Boy can he scream!  He can put large knobbed puzzles together.  He knows the shapes and colors and where they go.  I seriously can go on and on.  It's crazy how smart this child is.  I have no idea where it comes from!

We went to the doctor last week and Wyatt is measuring in the 17th percentile for height and the 50th for weight.  He hasn't gained any weight in the last 6 months, which is good.  The heavier he is, the harder it is for him to be able to move.  The low muscle tone is getting tons better, but he is able to get around better being a bit smaller.  The doctor isn't worried about his height  because he has been consistently growing and a steady rate.  All in all, the doctors are pleased with his growth.

My mom and I attended the 10th Moebius Syndrome Conference in Philadelphia.  It was amazing, of course.  I literally need to devote an entire blog just to what I took away from the conference and all I learned.  I feel so blessed to be a part of such an amazing organization.  Just knowing that things Wyatt does that I had been concerned with are common in the Moebius community.  But the most amazing part was taking away all of the relationships with other Moebius moms.  There is nothing like getting a bunch of mothers together, not only to talk about their children, but sharing information.  It is like nothing I can explain.  Just knowing that you are not alone.  I can't even being to describe it. 

I have gone back to work, part time.  It was a very difficult decision for me to make.  That fine line between being Wyatt's mom and being Amanda.  I live to be Wyatt's mom.  It is in every fiber of my being.  I was made, and born to be his mom.  I know that with everything in me.  However, during the last 20 months of being Wyatt's mom, I lost Amanda.  I lost who I was, not only to the people around me, but to me.  I woke up every morning focused on Wyatt.  Of course, I am his mother.  But, during the struggles we have faced with his needs, I totally lost who was because in the end, I am nothing without Wyatt.  Now, going back to work is not going to fix that, but it has certainly helped.  I feel like an active citizen again.  I now shower every day, and not just because I can smell myself.  I get to talk to people, and not just ones that are in my home for my son.  I feel productive.  I don't feel so dark and sad.  And while it is only 2 to 4 days a week, it's enough to work for now.  Don't get me wrong, I always wanted to be a stay at home mom.  But, circumstances presented themselves differently that I imagined.  I imagined being a SAHM and doing things mothers do.  Basically, being able to care for my child, the way most mothers do.  Taking him to the grocery with me, going to the park.  Simple things you do with your children.  However, in our world, I have been largely unable to do that.  There are nurses in my home 23/7 (don't ask) who are there only to tend to my child, much the way a mother does.  They bathe him, they feed him, they watch his every move.  And while I am there, and tend to do much of this myself, I felt as though they were there to do all of this, and better than I could.  While I know this isn't always correct, imagine someone in your home, all day, all night, taking care of your child, when you don't want them there.  Now, I know that they have been placed there to tend to his medical needs and that I am still his mother.  But, that isn't always the case.  I am not even going to get into the problems I have had and continue to have with nurses, but suffice it to say that it's terrible.  What I am trying to say is that, work has been a good thing for me.  And while I don't know how long it will last (I am only there on a temporary basis), I know that it is the right decision for me, at this moment.

Wyatt is obsessed with Roscoe.  I'm not sure when the change occurred.  He always watched Roscoe, grinning when he would lick his foot, but all in all, could care less that he was there.  However, now that Wyatt is crawling, Roscoe is like a moving target.  Poor guy.  Example:  A few weeks ago Roscoe was lying in the hallway between the bathroom and the nursery.  Apparently Wyatt locked his cites on the poor dog on this particular occasion.  Wyatt began crawling toward  Roscoe.  Sweet Roscoe, not wanting to be bothered during his afternoon nap, simply got up, and moved into the nursery.  Crisis averted.  Or so he thought.  Wyatt then hooked a right and followed him.  Of course, I got up from the floor, where Wyatt and I had been playing, to follow the action.  When I got to the door, Roscoe was literally pinned to the wall as Wyatt made his final decent upon him.  I swooped Wyatt up to take him back into the other room as Roscoe blinked in relief.  But seriously, Wyatt's love for Roscoe is undying.  He loves to pat him on the head and give him hugs.  I am so thankful that Roscoe is so patient with him.

Well, I think I will put an end to this update.  I know there there are six months of things that I have missed, and for that I am sorry.  I am going to try and make an effort to be better, but I promised not to make promises, so I promise I won't!

Love and happiness!

Amazing Friends

While I have tons of amazing and supportive friends, this blog is dedicated to one in particular.  Andrea Jarvis Hurley.  Her photography and artwork are truly amazing and ah-inspiring.  But, she has taken the most incredible photo of (my favorite, unbeknownst to her) purple tulips.  Ms. Andrea has decided to donate all profits from the purchase of the picture to the Moebius Syndrome Foundation.  She even asked me for my favorite quote to add to it!    

http://www.etsy.com/listing/93252726/purple-tulip-religious-verse

I beg each of you to check out this beautiful picture in honor of my Wyatt.  

Also check out her blog. http://andreahurley.blogspot.com/  She is crazy talented!  And don't forget to check out her other stuff on Etsy.  This girl is going to be super famous someday soon!

Andrea, we love you and thank you so very much!!

Fix me

I recently saw Joyful Noise with Dolly Parton and Queen Latifah. 

Let me begin by saying that I had heard mixed reviews on this movie so I went into it with an open mind, and heart.  I got there about 5 minutes after the previews had started, expecting to be the only person in the theater.  Instead, I was the youngest!  lol  

While I found much of the acting hysterical (and not necessarily in the good way), I learned two things about sweet Dolly.  First, she isn't the actress I once found incredible in Steel Magnolias.  And second, she dances with the rhythm of a white woman!  I say this because I too, have the rhythm of a white lady.  It was pretty funny to watch.  

Back to the blog at hand, I found so much of the movie spoke to me.  I'm sure that many people will watch this movie and take different things from it.  The things I took from this movie, could fill a stadium!  Honestly, though, I took quite a bit from this movie.  

First, there is a scene with Queen Latifah's character and her son, who has Aspergers.  They are having a conversation about God.  Her son asks her why she loves God.  He then goes on to say that she should hate God for making her son the way he was.  This scene was the most profound for me.  You see, I have felt this way so often.  I don't hate God, but I don't understand how this could have happened to my son.  Wyatt doesn't have Aspergers, but he is different from others.  He will struggle for the rest of his days.  He will become teased and broken by words because he is different.  This thought alone crushes me inside.  People have told me I need to teach him to be strong to it, but I hurt for him.  I know I have talked about this before, but unless you have a child with a "disability" or a visible difference, you have no idea what this feels like.  Not to mention the struggles he has already faced medically in his short 14 months of life.  It just doesn't seem right in my eyes.  Why my baby?  

Anyway, the next scene that made me cry like a baby was actually a song Dolly sings with her grandson.  It's called From Here to the Moon and Back.  It is a very sweet song.  However, this was shortly after the scene mentioned above.  And you see, every night when I tuck Wyatt in to sleep, I tell him I love him to "the moon and back a million, billion, trillion times".  

And lastly, there was a song in the movie that spoke to my very core.  It's called Fix me Jesus.  Below is the youtube link.  It's simple and sweet and incredible.  It's my mantra.  Fix Me Jesus.

I recommend that you at least take a chance on this movie.  It's not the best I have ever seen, but it spoke to my heart.  Maybe it will yours too.

Yes, I remember you

I realize that with every blog, I promise to blog more often.  And with every blog, the next seems just that much further from the last.  The truth is, I only find time to blog at 3 in the morning, when I don't have a nurse and am forced to stay awake.  Ok, so I am not "forced" per say, but I do stay awake when we don't have a nurse and thus "forced".

Since my last blog, Wyatt had an ER visit and surgery to put tubes in his ears.  Both of these events were totally and completely unrelated.  

Our ER visit was on the heels of a sleepless night for moi.  We didn't have nurse, and so I was up all night.  Wyatt was very restless and so I sat by his bed, all night.  I continued to check his trach, because he was trashing around all night and it made me nervous that it would come out (foresight, I think so).  The last time I checked it was at 5 and all was well.  

At 6:30 a.m. Mike came out and I went to bed.  Our nurse came at 7 and at 7:45 Mike and our nurse left for therapy.  At 11 a.m. Mike woke me up.  The long and the short of it was that Wyatt's trach was out and they couldn't get it back in.  After I tried, I called the ENT to let them know we would be bringing Wyatt into the ER. 

I say all of this because Wyatt's sat's were awesome! His O2 sats were 98 to 99 and his heart rate was 112.  Then, he started coughing.  We could hear "stuff" in his lungs, but could not suction because we couldn't get the trach in.  Eventually we got a suction catheter in to suction.  Then, Wyatt's sats dropped.  They dropped fast and hard.  When I "took over" he was at 40 and blue.  

Now, I have talked in the past about being a Mama Bear and taking over situations.  This was most definitely one of those times.  I don't do it because I question the ability of our nurse or because she isn't doing the job I want her to do.  It is simply because I know that I know how to "fix it".  I know how to make it all better.  And this was just one of those times.

I opened Wyatt's airway by tilting his neck as if I were going to do CPR.  I then took my thumb and forefinger to spread his stoma (hole for his trach) to open it.  After that, I began calming my baby.  I talked to him in a very soothing voice telling him that everything was ok and that he was alright and I was there.  Somehow, this was exactly what he needed.  He sats shot back up to 98.  At this point, we had called 911 and they were on their way.  

Fast forward (to spare you the boring details) he slept in the ambulance on the way to the hospital with sats of 99.  At the hospital they finally got his trach back in.  After 4 hours, we came home. 

We estimated that his trach came out around 7:30 while he was getting ready for therapy.  The strange part was that it was his best therapy ever.  His sats were awesome and he did everything they asked of him.  It was so strange.  But, because it was out for so long, the stoma had started growing back together.  Yes, that quickly!  It's scary to think of it. 

Oh, and then two days later I ended up in the ER at 2 in the morning.  Yep.  It appeared that what I thought was a heart attack was really a panic attack.  No!  Yep.  And to tell you the truth, I am not sure that I am 100% over the whole thing.  I was diagnosed with STSD after Wyatt ended up in the hospital back in April.  But, here was another event, much like the last, except that I didn't have to give him breaths.  No wonder I feel like I'm losing it most days. 

Now, all of this coupled with not having a nurse at least 3 nights a week, sometimes more.  To say that life is catching up with me is an understatement.  UGH!

But, I refuse to go on about my "darkness" in this blog.  I wanted to share some photos from Wyatt's birthday party!  It was a Dr. Seuss theme and a large success.  I can't believe my baby is year old!

Here are some of our decorations.  I would like to thank Pinterest for all of the incredible ideas.  

While I could post a million photos of the decorations, (which I am most proud of) I won't.  But, I will post some photos of the birthday boy!

I'll leave you with my "smily" boy.  This is one of my faves of him.  He was so happy with his Reddi Whip "cupcake". 

Perfection

As I sit here, in the floor by Wyatt's crib, playing him James Taylor (because we don't have a nurse and he has been up since 3:45 a.m.) I can't help but think of perfection, his perfection.

For a bit now, I have started and stopped many blogs.  It seems they all talk about how terrible my life is.  They all begin telling you all the latest developments, both medically and developmentally, for Wyatt.  This information is very straightforward.  My blog then goes to that dark place.  It seems all I ever do is complain on here.  And once I do, there is always someone there to tell me to get over it, in not so many words.  Some have hurt me, unintentionally, but most have tried to hep me back up.  I realized only recently that maybe I didn't want help back up.  Maybe I wanted to dwell and wallow in my self pity.  Don't get me wrong, there are days that all I want to do is wallow.  I want to consume myself with sadness.  I don't know why, it tends to take over.  But those days are happening fewer and fewer.  Anyway, I realized that  I never talk about how incredibly perfect my child is.

Wyatt has the most perfect nose.  I have no clue who it came from.  Really.  Mike has a pretty awesome nose, I must say.  I, however, do not.  I inherited my Grandmother's nose.  I think it's the Lafferty nose, or it could be the Blackburn nose.  However, it's hers and she can have it back.  At any rate, Wyatt's is perfect.  As are his toes.  I am NOT a feet person.  They sweat and smell and are yucky.  But not baby feet.  They are sweet and soft and simply adorable.  Don't even get me started on his hair.  Even if he did get my unruly curls, they are simply beautiful on his perfect head.  And that perfect crooked smile.  I feel blessed that Wyatt does have a smile at all.  Many Moebius people do not.

I can go on for hours, but you get the picture.  He is perfect.  As Mary Poppins put it "practically perfect in every way."

Wyatt can now sit on his own for several minutes at a time!  YAY!  When we came home from the hospital from our "extended stay" we made goals with both his PT/OT ladies, as well as his TEIS teachers.  My goals for Wyatt were simple:  I wanted to be able to tell when he was in distress, I wanted him to be interactive in play, and I wanted him to be able to sit, all by his first birthday!  You can image my elation when realization hit me that my baby met all of his goals!  I know mothers say they are proud of their children, but there are times when I think my heart is literally going to burst with pride, and Wyatt is only 11 and 1/2 months old!

Wyatt and I work and play together everyday.  Of course, I can tell when he is totally finished playing and/or working.  Lately, he has been putting his arms over his eyes, as if to say, "no more".  It's really cute, actually, but knowing that is his cue, I typically cut activity time off there.  I push Wyatt sometimes, but in no way do I want him to associate playing in the floor with mommy as "work".  So over the past week or so Wyatt and I have been working on clapping. I do it first for him to see, then I hold his hands and clap for him, then I hold one arm still while moving the other to clap, then I let him try it.  At first, he didn't make the slightest effort.  Then, he would hold his hands in front of him, looking and studying them.  For the longest time, he would put them together, just holding them.  Then, yesterday, Auntie Becky (or the Anti Becky, I like to call her but I love her!) was here.  We were all in the floor playing with his Leap Frog Spin a letter toy (that I call baby crack).  When he was over it, we started clapping.  When he would clap (with assistance) we would clap for him.  Very soon, he got it.  When he clapped for the first time, unassisted, I felt so much joy.  So much pure, amazing, heart bursting joy.  I got teary-eyed and emotional.  These are the moments I am thankful I am here, with him.

Wyatt has to have tubes put in the 21st.  Unfortunately, it's the same week as Thanksgiving and his birthday.  While I knew this was coming, I just stinks.  I pray that the procedure is an easy, simple, successful one and we are all well and good for his birthday!

So for two months now (YES 2 months) my child has been getting his first molars.  And, if you know Wyatt, he doesn't do anything half way, we have 4 coming in, all at once.  Needless to say, he has been a bit of a bear.  He is so restless in his sleep at night and chews both index fingers in both sides of his mouth most of his awake hours and has a callous on his left thumb from sucking/chewing it in his sleep.  Our doctor doesn't recommend OraGel.  She says that they swallow it and it causes their throat to numb and not be able to swallow as well.  And, given Wyatt's swallowing issues, we don't want to make anything any worse.  My doctor also says not to give him chew toys in the freezer.  She says that it can cause the gums to get frost bitten.  She does, however, recommend a cold, damp washcloth with all of the water rung out of it.  Wyatt could give two poos about it.  So, we suffer.  We even talked to her about the teething tablets, but she says no to those as well.  Her fear is that he will aspirate on some of it because of his swallowing issues.  So, we tough it out.  

I have been so very blessed to have found the Moebius Syndrome Foundation.  I have connected with a few mothers so far, and have found such solace in the information and support they offer.  It's kind of like we are all in a private "club".  I mean, you can talk about your child's delays or achievements with other parents, but they don't really get it.  Don't get me wrong, the support from everyone, Moebius parent or not, has been incredible.  But when a Moebius mother says "ask you doctor about" this or that, it's because they have had the same issues.  It's such an incredible comfort.  

When I initially registered with the Moebius Syndrome Foundation, they sent me some awesome information.  They also sent Wyatt a super sweet Moebius t-shirt.  In the information I received, there was an article that struck me so profoundly, that I try to live by it daily.  While I don't recall who wrote it, or where it came from, it was such an incredible epiphany to me; like I woke up.

The article talks about having a child with special needs.  It's like planning a trip to Paris.  You saved up for this trip for years.  You have dreamed about it.  You have bought all of the travel guides.  You learn French.  The big day comes and you get on the plane.  You land.  But, when you get out you aren't in Paris.  Instead, you are in Holland.  You didn't plan this.  You don't know the language.  You don't have the books.  This isn't what you planned.  The moral of the story goes on to say that even though you aren't where you planned on going, Holland is also beautiful.  And if you dwell only on things you miss about Paris, then you will miss the beauty of what you have.

In the end, my eyes are open.  Wide open.  I appreciate so much more.  I know Wyatt will never be like most children.  He will struggle.  He will be teased and taunted.  He will have his heart broken by words and people.  But, in the end, my son will excel.  My son will climb many mountains, but once on top, he will plant his flag, for the world to see.  

Wyatt playing in the laundry basket.  PT said it's great to  help him sit. 

Wyatt's first Halloween.  The world's cutest Charlie Brown!