I’ve been doing the special needs parenting gig for some time now. 16 and a half yrs to put a number to it. Almost half my life. Some days are harder than others, watching other almost 17 year olds doing what they do, wanting that more than anything for my child, knowing its not our reality.
I have sad days, I have mad days. But more than anything I have blessed days. I’m not religious, but I am spiritual in a sense that I believe everything happens for a reason. I feel Logan was given to me as a gift. He has taught me more about myself and about others than I could ever have learned on my own.
He has taught me that I am far stronger than I have ever realized. When Logan was 8 weeks old, our journey began. Little did I know the journey would last his entire life, and all these years later I would still be trudging along down this unknown path looking for answers. I couldnt have guessed that I would have spent countless hours in appointments for various things, and that I would have read dozens and dozens of medical books searching for sympoms, and hoping to find something, anything, that matched.
Logan has taught me how to fight for love and not apologize to anyone. I have stepped on many toes, and pushed open many doors to get Logan what I feel he needs, when he needs it. These are things I never would have done before. I had it in me all along, and Logan held the key to releasing it.
Logan has taught me how to accept myself, despite the flaws. He loves himself, and I love that about him. His self esteem is inspiring. He tries his best in everything he does, often failing, but trying again and again. He still has not mastered writing his first name, or tying his shoes, but he never gives up. I am in awe of him. His spirit is intoxicating, magical, and I can’t get enough of it.
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