I don't think you ever know how much you take for granted until the "normal" goes away. I don't think you know how much certain things matter until you learn what it is to not have them.
Eli talks. I've talked about that before. He's "verbal". If you have ever been around my little man he has probably ran up to you with a train and started speaking gibberish a mile-a-minute about "Thomas". Somewhere in there would be the words "blue" and "train" and "one" and "friends" but most of it would be a slew of words that aren't words but he'll tell them to you all the same.
He says, "Mommy, you 'kay?" and "Daddy, where's Mommy?" and a handful of perfectly understood sentences. If you didn't know how often he says them, how often he repeats them back to back, you would swear he speech was fine and you wouldn't know any different. If you didn't know it, you just wouldn't know how precious the events of yesterday are to this family.
While I was washing dishes in the kitchen, Eli ran up to me and stopped short just before my feet.
"Mommy," he stated - not asking a question, but demanding my attention. His little face looked so serious and so focused. His eyes locked straight into mine.
I crouched down so my face was just before his tiny, tiny, perfect nose.
"Mommy," he said again. He looked down at his little hand and raised it to his chest. He watched his finger as he pointed it out and then poked it into his shirt.
He looked straight back at me taking a breath, "Me ... Milk?"
His light grey eyes widened as he watched my reaction. The smile spanned across his face as my own smile stretched my cheeks.
"Yes, bugah-boo, I will get you some milk." I gave him the biggest hug and opened the fridge.
Eli almost always asks for milk by opening the fridge, pulling out the gallon (yes, the mighty giant can carry a full jug) and bringing it to C and I. He may even say "milk" as he does it. But never, never, has he spoken a completed, original thought like this.
What is most incredible about all of it is that this precious little knew, he knew, that asking like that ... putting it all together ... he knew it meant something. I saw it in the concentration on his face. I saw it in the joy of his reaction. It was beautiful and special and heart-hugging.
I never thought my child asking me for milk would bring me to tears. I never thought that looking at a little-little pointing to himself and asking "Me ... milk?" would be joy-filling and celebratory and lead me to my husband to cry into his chest.
You just never know how precious things are until obtaining the "normal" becomes a battle. Until fighting for little thoughts becomes worthy of happy tears.
You just don't know how much it matters until you see the determination and struggle and victory in your little giant's face.
Yes, it was quite the victory.
