Noah has had an exciting week. Monday he was able to get a spoon with a looped handle to his mouth in therapy. Granted he still needed assistance, but he kept his elbow bent, something he rarely is able to do because his arms are so stiff. He stayed relaxed and focused on the Costco pumpkin pie at the end of that spoon. Unfortunately I was unable to order the exact spoon we used in therapy because it has been discontinued but found a comparable one instead. So for $3.49, we're waiting for it's special arrival in the mail. It is still my hope that with lots of work, Noah will one day be able to feed himself.
Noah has also becoming more aware of mommy by the minute and has decided he no longer wants to be in the stroller upon looking up through the mommy window and realizing I'm there. He instantly breaks out in hysterical tears until I pick him up and make his world better. So we've been doing walks in his snugglie, which is hard on my back considering he's getting so heavy. Right before the weather turned cold this week, we went for an afternoon walk. We walked down the bike path behind our house, and looked at all the leaves still on the ground, Noah loving the sound of them crunching beneath my feet. He also got to look at the famer's highline canal that has been emptied of water for the season. It's always so interesting to see what has landed in there during the year. Children's bikes lay lifeless and rusting at the bottom. Probably thrown in by a bike kidnapper. Dead branches from the heavy summer storm lay sprinkled about, trash and pop cans lining the edges, a bearly reconginzable baby doll laying sideways as if asking to be rescued.
Continuing on our walk we crossed paths with a older lady possibly in her late eighties. She had completely white hair, curly but not styled. Simple glasses that looked to have been recently cleaned as the sun caught them and made them shine. She had only two upper teeth but smiled big regardless. She stopped us as we were walking, gently lifted the brim of Noah's camouflaged summer fishing hat and said "that's quite the bundle you have there." I exchanged a smile, and she continued "he's a lesson for you, a lesson for all. He has been brought here for a purpose." Knowing nothing of Noah's condition, I didn't know what to say. I asked how she knew and she said she just did. I never did explain what made Noah different, she said she'd see me again and turned and walked in the opposite direction. I looked back until I couldn't see her any longer as she rounded the corner. Her lace blouse wispy in the breeze as she held a lavender winter coat with pink cuffs at her waist. I've been digesting that meeting for the last few days. I should have asked and talked to her more, should have at least gotten her name. I was in awe, left speechless by her unexpected message.
Wednesday Noah was able to do his physical therapy on the swing. I'm so thankful that platform swings exist. Noah is completely focused when he's on the swing and doesn't realize that he's actually doing therapy and working hard. Noah's therapist Beth is like having tea with a friend every week. We talk about small things, yet our conversations seem to keep me feeling grounded and connected to the outside world. She told me of a patient that onced asked her how her life was better for knowing her and what lessons she had learned from her.
That conversation planted a seed about a very special project I'd like to do for Noah. If Noah could talk, I think he would very much ask similar questions. What have I taught you? Why are you better for knowing me? How has my story changed your life? Noah's first birthday is in about six weeks, and Christmas only two days after. As a gift to Noah, I'd like to invite everyone who has come in contact with Noah's story to write him a letter or send him a personal card telling him how he's changed your life, what he may have taught you, or how special he has become to all that continue to follow his story. I want to gather these cards and letters for a special scrapbook that I'm building for Noah. It will be something that we'll be able to treasure for years, something that may help Noah discover his life's journey.
For all those interested please send these special letters and cards to:
Noah Mitchell Warden
c/o Stacy Warden
PO Box 746653
Arvada, Colorado 80006
We will put them in a special stocking for Noah so that he has them as gifts for Christmas Day. It's one of the greatest gifts for him that I can think of - to know how loved he is by many and encouraged by all to keep being the "The Little Engine that Could."
Love,
Stacy, Chris & Noah
