Nathaniel and I left his Cincinnati Children’s Hospital check up last May with an interesting recommendation from his ENT: look beyond the pediatric community for information and support. I had arrived with questions about Nathaniel’s options for voicing. They shared of another patient with a laryngotracheal separation who learned to use esphageal speech. They also expressed a great deal of hope that given the right support, Nathaniel had a good chance of voicing.

I’ve been watching the daffodils in my yard cope with a slow coming spring. They sprouted up fast after a few warm days in February. Then it turned cold again, snowed a few times, and they stayed at their four-inch height for close to a month. They doubled in height this last week, and now have buds. But evidence of enduring the extra weeks of harsh weather remains in the dried and browned ends of the leaves.

Six.

We are celebrating Nathaniel’s sixth birthday this weekend. I’ve probably said it about each year, but it is unbelievable that he’s six. When you parent and love a child who has bore labels like “prognosis: poor,” “failure to thrive,” and “unadoptable,” every year is a milestone. When that child has survived multiple episodes of sepsis, respiratory failure, accidental trach decanulation, aspiration pneumonia, medical formula intolerance, and dehydration, every birthday is significant.

"What if adopting Nathaniel means you can no longer do the things you enjoy doing as a family or individually?" asked the adoption case manager during our staffing interview.

Rich has just finished explaining his and our older boys' involvement in Boy Scouts of America, including the three backpacking trips to Philmont High Adventure Camp. There were fourteen individuals sitting around the table participating in our interview. They had interviewed other couples before us. They were charged with the task of selecting Nathaniel's forever family. Prior to this question, they had described Nathaniel's medical conditions and the many concerns physicians had for his future. The adoption case manager had explained that it was uncertain if Nathaniel would ever walk. "What if he can't hike and go backpacking with you?" the she pushed Rich a bit more. Nathaniel took his first steps nine months later, just a few months after we finalized his adoption.