love is love

We forged through the falling snow today to get to and from the University of Chicago so we could have our appointment with a new neurologist. Although nearly every day Elliott asks in a trembling voice, "No doctor today?," he was a trooper. We aren't any closer to knowing more about Elliott physiologically or how to address his conditions, but spending a day together was special, even in a hospital.

When I read back through the letters and assessments from past doctors and therapists, the lab results, the recent MRI report, I could be sad. I could think about all the struggles my son will probably face as he gets older. I could think about how far he lags behind. I could think about how many tests may still yet loom ahead. But I don't anymore.

I just see sweet and funny Elliott. The boy who gives an imaginary name when the doctor asks him for his. The boy who tells the nurse he's six, with a sparkle in his eye, when he knows the correct answer is four. The boy who keeps his feet in the air when both his hands are being held. The boy who refuses to potty train, but suddenly claims he has to go pee in the middle of the appointment and walks to the bathroom and goes. The boy who just cannot sit in a chair to eat lunch when there is a fish tank in the room. The boy who asks more than two dozen times, "I done soon?," to give himself the courage to be happy when he's scared.

I love this boy. And that was just all I could think today. No matter if a speech therapist reports that he cannot follow simple directions. No matter if he can ask me "What his name?," but just cannot understand how to ask the little boy in the waiting room directly. No matter if IQ is a measurement doctors are always going to ask us.

This boy is a gem. He's not a genius on paper. But when we finally got home, right before dusk, we ran inside to put on snow clothes. I pulled out the snow pants Elliott's papa and gigi sent him for Christmas and as I pulled them up his legs, he said, "I got gigi?" We haven't looked at the pants since we pulled them out of the box at Christmas and, although we told him where they came from, we've never repeated it since. He just took that information and stored it away so he could wow us later.

I love this boy. I would cut out my heart for him. Because no matter what shows up on any paper, love is love. And that is that.