From the day he was born, Elliott has given me a more honest, brutal, beautiful, and real perspective on reality. This new perspective has given me both more patience with some people and less patience with other people. It’s made me bolder, more direct, and unafraid of death. A sense of freedom. A need to protect and enjoy what is happening right now.
I’ve tried my best to summarize this new perspective in a few lessons:
Lose your life to find it. Elliott was born, not breathing, white as ghost, and completely limp. We yelled and prayed and begged him to breathe. He was a fighter. Somehow his heart was beating and he hung on. During his recovery, I wished and prayed that my life would end if it meant Elliott’s could continue. I meant it. Each day with him and Jacy was special because at first we weren’t sure what the future looked like. I realized I didn’t need my own life or anything in it as much as I wanted him to be alive. I’m not afraid to die. And each day I’m here, I’ve got to pull everything I can out of life. This is the first thing Elliott taught me. Before he ever opened his eyes.
Be thankful that your body works. Once Elliott was home with us, he started going to about every type of therapy. There are core abilities we all assume without question should “just work” – talking, speech, eating, walking. Elliott has all these abilities but didn’t get to them easily. He took his first steps at 18 months after 6+ months of weekly physical therapy. His effort to learn to walk (and talk) taught me to better appreciate my own body. The fact that I’m alive and my body works the way it should. When I walk, I appreciate it. When I run, I appreciate it. I do it with extra energy for those that wish they could and to respect Elliott’s effort to get this far.
Don’t complain. I’ve never had patience for people that complain about their problems instead of focusing on progress and solutions. Elliott taught me that this instinct is correct and gave me many reasons to never complain. He has so much to potentially complain about: the schedules, the therapy sessions, the leg brace. But he just keeps moving. On to the next skill or goal. Elliott taught me that you can focus on your goal and your progress toward it, or you can complain about the situation you’re in. Anytime I want to complain, I’ll remind myself that my complaints are really a failure to accept and develop what I’ve been given. There is nothing to complain about when he is here with us each day.
Own it. As we move forward, the lesson I hope to learn from (and to teach) Elliott is how to accept yourself and own it. Understand and accept the cards you’ve been dealt in life, and have no apologies or excuses for what you are. Other kids may ask Elliott why he has a brace. He can try to cover it up or brush it off, or he can own it by speaking plainly and honestly. “This is a brace I wear because I have Cerebral Palsy and it keeps my muscles from over-tightening. I can do anything I want when I am wearing it or when I’m not wearing it.” Elliott will need courage and self-confidence to represent himself, speak to his needs, explain his situation to others. He is teaching me to have those same traits, all the time, so I can model them for him. I won’t let him down.
Joy. Apart from the work and therapies and effort, the single most important lesson Elliott taught me is joy. To enjoy the moment I’m in. To really be where I am, with all five senses, and with my mind focused. Elliott doesn’t care that he is behind in certain developmental areas. He experiences the world as it comes and enjoys each moment of it. Looking at trash trucks each Tuesday. He loves trash trucks; they are loud and smell and crush stuff. No pretense. Looking for turtles in our neighborhood creek. Jumping in a puddle. Saying “hi” to people from the stroller as we walk the lake trail. Elliott taught me that I need even less than I thought to find joy.
The lessons from Elliott’s birth and journey were, and continue to be, far reaching. These lessons not only strengthened me personally, but also deepened our marriage and inspired our family and friends. We are floored each year by the donations made in Elliott’s name to Dell Children’s hospital. Elliott’s therapists continually comment on his joyful nature. Jacy and I have a greater appreciation for each other and have relied on each other more than ever before. Our family and friends have stepped up in major ways to support Elliott and our family. We enjoy the simple walks and quality time more than ever. I have a greater appreciation for my life, our marriage, our family, our friends, and our medical care because of Elliott.
Elliott's Journey 
So well written . What a beautiful family and I love and pray for all of you.
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