Back story...

To be blunt, my little guy has gotten the short end of the stick since before he was born. You would never know it, though, if you met him. He is easily one of the most positive, sweet souls I have ever had the privilege of knowing.

When I was 20 weeks pregnant, we were told that our son would be born with a cleft lip and palate. Thankfully, when he was born, his palate was intact and it was “just” a cleft lip. He latched on with that cleft lip and nursed until he was 14 months old.

“Whew!” we thought. We got so lucky! One quick little surgery at 4 months old and he’ll be as good as new.

And he was! For a few months anyway.

At his 6 month well-check, our AWESOME (did I say awesome? ‘Cause she is) pediatrician noticed “something” in his eye. A speck…hardly noticeable…but she wanted us to have it checked out with a pediatric ophthalmologist.

I wasn’t worried. After all, we’d already had our scare! Adam was going to be just fine.

The doctor was amazed that our pediatrician had seen what was in Adam’s eye. It was so tiny…a cataract. He said it was fine for now, but it needed to be checked in 6 weeks to see if it got bigger.

Whew. Okay. Not so bad…we can deal.

Six weeks later and we’re back in his office. The cataract has gotten larger and is obstructing Adam’s vision. The lens of his right eye must be removed. Immediately.

I cry. I can’t believe the shitty hand my son has been dealt. But it is fixable. Do-able. It’s not a disease.

When Adam is 9 months old, he has the lens of his eye removed and is fitted for a hard contact lens that we must learn how to put in his eye every day.

Ever tried to put a contact lens into a squirmy, uncooperative 9 month-old’s eye?

Yeah, didn’t think so.

It takes 2 of us to hold him down, often times upwards of a half an hour to get that damn thing in. (This is, I believe, what they call foreshadowing. God gave my husband and I practice at holding our son down, so we'd be ready for insulin shots. Heh.)

*This is where I have a nervous breakdown and begin to explore the joys of Lexapro.*

Like everything else…it gets easier. Adam gets used to his contact lens, patching, etc.

We get used to searching for lost contact lenses on our beige carpeting, letting a few f-bombs fly when we step on them and have to pony up another $140 to buy a new one.

Fast-forward to this summer – Adam is starting pre-K three days a week from 9-1pm, my daughter will begin 2nd grade.

I am smelling something wonderful. It’s called freedom.

Freedom to exercise. Freedom to contemplate going back to school. Freedom to build things in my garage. Freedom to bake…for people to actually pay me to bake!

If you read the first post, you know how this story ends. The universe tells me, “Ha…hold it there, little missy. We’re not done with you yet.”

And so the story begins.