A Letter to My Special Son

Dearest Brady,
I am sitting her listening to the sound of your laughter fill my kitchen. The smacking of your hand against the glass as you try to get your sister's attention. And the rhythm of the clapping that shows your excitement.  I know that you are happy.  You are content.
Yet my heart hurts...
You are laughing at our neighbor as he dances and runs in the yard.  You are clapping at your sister as she tosses a stuffed animal up in the air.  You are smacking the glass door to get them to do more.  I want to give you the ability to run through the yard, and laugh because you are running so fast.  I want to give you the ability to speak and tell your sister to throw the animal again.  But it's more than that.  I want to give you sight, so glasses aren't required.  I want to give you hearing, so you do not have to have gadgets hanging from your ears.  I want to give you back everything that was taken from you because of this vicious virus, and this brain malformation that it led too.
I am grateful for all of the medical marvels that allow you to live life fuller, but I want more for you.  I want you to be ...GULP... normal.  I hate that I want this.  I hate that word.  I hate any idea of being normal myself.  I don't want to be normal.  I want to stand out, and you do that so gracefully.  You stand out because your sweet smile and infectious laughter are always present, and it draws people in.  I don't want to blend into a crowd, but I am afraid that you will be treated differently... experience the horribleness and meanness of kids who do blend.  I want to give you all of the things that were taken from you for no reason at all, and yet I know that would mean that you would not be you.  You would be a very different child from the one whom has taught me so much.
I hear other moms talk about how their boys are so crazy, so out of control, so wild, and I want to throw something at them.  I want to tell them to whine to someone else.  I want to tell them that I have no pity for them, because I would KILL for my son to have the ability to be wild and crazy.  He doesn't, and somehow I resent them for it.
Instead of crying, instead of yelling at other moms, instead of dreaming that life is different...
I listen to you laugh.
Your laugh is beautiful, and I love it's melody.
You are beautiful.
I love you forever...
Mom