Chewymom

DS8 becomes DS9 today: my sweet, freckle-faced son, who is cheerful and kind. He hasn’t always been that way!

When DS9 was a baby, he began a cycle of getting pneumonia monthly. He wheezed almost constantly. In spite of being without medical insurance, we gave DS9 a cocktail of seven different medications to keep him breathing appropriately, to the tune of over $1000 per month. One medication in particular cost over $400 per month, so we had to get it in weekly doses, just to be able to afford it. As the drugs pulsed through his little body, DS9’s personality became impossible. He would have the most horrific temper fits, and we finally learned to just let him lie on the floor and scream. Everyone lived on edge, as we tried to keep DS9 happy at all costs. We lived in tension and fear of this little terror.

Finally, over a year after the breathing difficulties had begun, it was discovered that the root cause of the breathing difficulties was reflux–being aspirated into his lungs. Surgery was performed, and my son came out a different person. It was like they had removed the “grumpy organ.” In fact, his entire baby personality had been dictated by medications. I could hardly believe that this sweet-tempered little guy was the same kid.

DS9 continues to be amazingly sweet, even as a freckle-faced third grader. My phone rings off the hook, with little boys wanting DS9 to come over and play. Every day is a juggling act for him, as he decides where to go, who to play with, what to do. At school, he has been sentenced to sitting between two little girls–not because he was being disruptive, but because a few of the boys would constantly fight over who got the privilege of sitting next to DS9. The teacher threw up her hands in despair, and said NO little boys could sit by him, or stand next to him in line. It ended the fighting among the other boys, and you might think it ruined DS9’s life. He’s not thrilled with the arrangement, but he takes it like the good-natured kid that he is.

My other three sons are either my same height or taller than me, and I constantly beg DS9 to remain small, and cute, and sweet, and snuggly, and willing to scratch my itchy back. And not smelly. He, of course, agrees, because he is just that kind of kid. So today, I celebrate DS9’s birthday, his life, his sweetness, and his willingness to remain my little guy. And my best back-scratcher. I just love that kid!

This entry was posted on Friday, April 20th, 2007 at 6:00 am and is filed under Mommy Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.