My baby boy is 7 years old today, and the best thing of all is that he’s excited about it.  

My Baby Gorilla

7 years old

Last night, Kevin and I decorated with streamers and big Happy Birthday banners all shiny with foil and sparkling letters.  The girls and I sang Happy Birthday to you, Happy Birthday to you…cha cha CHA this morning while I helped Adam get a bath and get dressed.  I pinned a button on his shirt that says It’s my b-day!  and every time we sang his name, he grinned broadly and touched that button.  I’m so glad he’s not the sort to be embarrassed to wear something like that because even though I know he’ll be excited every time a teacher or another kid tells him Happy Birthday today, I know he’s not going to tell them it’s his day.  We practiced answering the How old are you? question (the girls helped:)), and Riley asked if she could help him carry in the dozen cupcakes he’ll be eating at snack time today with his friends at school. Each cupcake has fluffly white icing and a bright colored pick pushed in the top that says Happy Birthday.  Just the thing for a hyperlexic wonder who LOVES letters and words.:)  

When Adam gets home after school and goes upstairs (as he always does) to shed his shoes and put them away, he’ll find helium balloons floating in his room.  Adam loves balloons.  Yesterday, I made him a chocolate cake, but before we dive into that, we’ll eat spaghetti, which has always been Adam’s favorite meal.  I remember that Mom made spaghetti for Adam when we brought him home from the hospital at 2, after we discovered that Adam had diabetes.  He’d been terribly ill, and the doctor warned me that Adam would eat a lot when he got home.  ”When you think about it, he’s basically been starving,” the doctor said.  That night, Adam ate 3 large plates of spaghetti, and I cried.

When Adam was born, his hair rose from his head in a soft black tuft.  His cheeks and thighs were so adorably chunky that I affectionately called him my baby gorilla.   At 4, our rhythm-loving son even showed extreme excitement from time to time by thumping out a beat on his chest with his fists.  At 7, he spends his entire day exercising.  He’s long since lost the soft black tuft and has exchanged the chubby cheeks and thighs for six-pack abs (not kidding) and lean, muscular legs.  Kevin and I have actually joked from time to time that we should write a fitness book from his perspective.  Adam lives in continual motion—running, jumping jumping jumping, spinning, sliding, twisting, dancing.  I don’t think anyone past the age of 25 could actually keep up with him all day, but if we could, nothing would jiggle.:)  He is a trampoline MANIAC and got more excited than you would believe watching Olympic trampoline jumping on TV during the Summer Games.  

I include the clip here in his honor.:)  At every flip and every twist, Adam rose on his tip toes, applauded, and even declared, “Good job!  Well done!”

So agile is our fun-loving son that we have no trouble imagining him doing something just that physical and extreme one day.  He’d be the happiest Olympian alive—giggling and shrieking with delight as he flipped, twisted, and bounced through the air.

I know every mother says this, but I just can’t believe it’s been seven years since that day when Kevin and I left for the hospital in the early morning hours, knowing we’d be welcoming a son into the world that afternoon.  I remember that Riley was particularly angry with Kevin for leaving her with Grandma and Papa (Kevin’s always been her favorite person in the whole world.).  Mom loves to tell the story about how Riley wouldn’t even look at Kevin (much less Adam) when they came to the hospital to meet Adam for the first time.  As I recall, Riley wouldn’t even let us take a picture of Adam and her together when we got home from the hospital.  We have all these pictures of an unaware Riley sitting on the floor or playing with something and my dad’s arms holding Adam suspended in mid-air behind her.  Who’d have known that one day I’d hear her say, “Hey, leave my brother alone” to her dad (big mistake) when he and Adam were having a teaching moment.:)

 Of our three, Adam has always been the most snuggly.  I always chuckle when I hear the stereotype about how autistic individuals do not like to be affectionate or touched, because Adam has always loved to be close.  Words can’t quite describe what he felt like as a baby.  My sweet, soft, chunky little guy would press his hands flat against my back and rest his head on my shoulder.  He’d sit on my lap and push his diapered bottom into the crook of my arm until he was snug and warm against my side.  

Now, he still loves to snuggle.  He’ll sit beside me to watch a movie and rest one hand on my leg, leaning into me.  I think sitting snug between Kevin and me in just that way is one of his favorite things to do, and I understand why.  More than once I’ve thought, I could fall asleep just like this.

At supper time the other night, I sat beside Adam talking about things as I always do, and he responded steadily and appropriately, though not always with words.  Sometimes he answered with an expression, sometimes a gesture, sometimes a word or a string of several.  Our communication flowed easily, as it almost always does.  At one point, a contented expression softened his features and he looked intently into my eyes, a wide grin lighting up his whole face.  He rested a hand against my arm and moved it up and down, leaned in until we were nose to nose, and then pressed his cheek against my shoulder.  Though he used no words,  I heard him clearly, and it filled my eyes with tears.  What he said was something like, I love you, Mom.  You always understand me.  For an autistic child, understanding is a precious commodity.

Today, I am “all filled up” with reminiscing about my music-loving, affectionate, contagiously-funny, keenly-intelligent, absolutely-amazing son.  Even his frustration, which is not fun, can, when all is said and done, make us giggle.  He has this way of hurling out grumpy declaratives that makes him sound like a little frustrated old man trapped in a seven year old body.  SIT down!  BYE BYE ball!   NO throwing!  SIT down!  TIME to take a BATH!  Ever seen Dana Carvey’s old guy routine?  If you have, you know what Adam sounds like when he’s angry.:)

Adam’s laughter is one of my favorite sounds, and it’s my awesome-beyond-words blessing to see God’s Glory shining through every milestone he reaches.  Sometimes, it’s like he’s holding out on us, just waiting to knock our socks off.  He’ll walk in a room, and you can see him deciding, and then finally, in the most normal voice, he’ll speak to us as if the challenges he’s faced have only been a dream or a passing blur.  I can’t wait to see what the next 7 years of his life will bring.  God grant me the wisdom to cherish every day and not let a single one fall to the ground.

Happy Birthday, Adam.  We love you, and words just aren’t enough to say how much.