Shane Michael, our son, is seven years old.  He has the prettiest big blue eyes and the sweetest pink-cheeked face.  He has thick, thick wavy red hair and freckles adorning his nose.  He has a smile that can light up the room; he has such a happy personality.  He makes parenting easy.

There are, however, those times, where we worry constantly about him:  you see, he is severely handicapped.  Shane was born with significant brain damage and is blind and nonverbal.  Doctors don't know what went wrong, but something apparently did, and now Shane is marked with severe cerebral palsy and significant brain damage for the rest of his life.

We could have very easily walked out on him or placed him into an institution; we are not that way.  We loved our son, no matter what he has, and we will continue to love him, no matter what life throws at us.  He's been nothing but a huge blessing in our lives, and in the lives of others.  We think he would do so much better here with us than whiling away the hours in some institution, where he wouldn't get the proper care (or attention) he needs.

Shane is our miracle boy (but then, all children are miracles).  He can make one forget of their troubles and make people count their blessings.  He can communicate with his smile and by making his noises; his noises are great indicators of his moods and feelings. 

Obviously, Shane cannot walk or talk; he probably never will.  He also cannot feed himself (he has a special "button" in his belly; we pour his "food" into it every five hours; it takes about an hour to "feed" him; we also give him his medications every four hours through this same tube) and cannot go to the toilet on his own, so he has to wear diapers, even though he is seven years old.  We don't mind caring for him; caring for him allows us to interact with him, and he enjoys the attention we give to him.

I know his brother and sister (Shawn and Shereena; they're ten and eight) would rather have a brother who could play with them or talk to him, but they accept him willingly.  They know he cannot help the way he is, and they are his biggest support system.  They have learned how to care for him better than most adults; they have also learned tolerance and patience in dealing with his many needs.  I am very proud of how well they handle him.

When Shane is in the hospital, it is always the worst time for us.  While daddy and I spend time with him at the hospital, Shawn and Shereena go to grandma and grandpa's; they enjoy the break, but I know they are worried for their little brother.  They have prayed long and hard for him; we have too.  Maybe this is one reason why he is still with us.

I know (and they know) that Shane won't live as long as they will; however, we don't worry about that now.  We thank God for every day he is still with us, and we cherish every moment spent with Shane.  He is the best thing that ever happened to us, and we will do all we possibly can to ensure that he has a "healthy" and happy life. 

*to be continued.*