Magical

As I watch my son work harder than he’s ever worked before I catch the eye of the child’s mom on the next mat over. She gives me a kind smile and as our eyes meet we both instantly share thoughts without saying a word. My son isn’t shy about letting his therapists know that what they are doing is hard, uncomfortable, and something he’s never done before. The mom and I occasionally glance at each other and give one another imaginary fist pumps. We are here. We are pushing our kids to achieve their full potential. Surely that’s worth a fist pump or two.

The 3 week long intensive therapy is tiring, and this year I added a week so he’s been going strong for nearly 4 weeks. I can’t tell you how many times my 3 year old has fallen asleep during his fourth hour! And I’m surprisingly exhausted from watching him. I watch him fight and work hour after hour. I watch him cry, sometimes scream, but also giggle and smile when his therapist gives him a cuddle. This is boot camp and one that is well worth it. He is fighting to do something so many of us can’t imagine. He’s fighting to hold his body in a seated position without falling over. He’s fighting to stand and feel the ground underneath him. He’s incredibly uncomfortable and immediately gets defensive when a spoon is set on his tray.

This is anything but easy.

At the beginning of the intensive we were asked what our goals were. This question is extremely hard for me to answer. As a parent of a child with severe delays I can’t get my hopes set on a specific milestone achievement. I would love to tell them that after 3 weeks I would like him sitting or crawling, but that’s unrealistic to ask of them. I simply say “overall strength.” That’s all I’m asking. Get him stronger and closer to those milestones I so badly want him to achieve. Any amount of progress is worth the sacrifices it takes to get to NAPA. No matter what, I know we are walking out of NAPA stronger than we were before.

And as we walk through the big gym tomorrow afternoon and out into the California sun I know I will cry. I will cry because of the bond that we formed with his therapists. His cheerleaders who believe in him. His trainers who are preparing him to go home and do big things. His therapists who give me tremendous hope for what he will achieve. I will shed tears because being at NAPA 4 hours a day you find “your people.” I have connected with so many other mothers and can’t wait to see them again next year. The moms who I imaginary fist pump, the parents who I laugh with, and the moms who I want to hug a little longer. Next year can’t come soon enough.

There are so many words to sum up our experience at NAPA, but in more ways than one, it’s inexplicably magical.

Until next year…