That Moment When "Woo-Hoo!" Turns Into "Wait...What?"

When Mark and I found out we were pregnant with child #3, we had a 3-year-old and a 2-month-old.  We weren't exactly jumping for joy at first but then we were ecstatic.  Woo-Hoo!!!!  We wanted a full house and, having had a late start, didn't know if that would be in His design.  It was and we loved it!  After the first appointment with my doctor, I went with Mark on a business trip.  Being newly pregnant, with a newborn as well, I was exhausted.  I remember how perfect life seemed when I began my nap...cool hotel room...comfy pillows....Phoenix was playing in a make-shift playpen... we'd left Maggie with my parents....perfect.  Then my cell phone rang.

My doctor was calling me...on a weekend...when he knew I was out of town.  Cytomegalovirus.  Wait...What?!  I had WHAT?!  Cytomegalovirus, commonly known as CMV, is the leading cause of infant blindness, deafness, and retardation.  Upon birth, if there is a birth, some of the best case scenarios saw the infant being immediately taken to NICU and having chemo treatments and several other invasive and uncomfortable treatments.  My doctor advised me to abort immediately.

After suggesting it for a third time, we finally told the doctor it wasn't going to happen.  We were keeping the baby, no matter what.  Well, after months of special care (CMV feels like the flu and mono at the same time by the way), we were as ready as we could possibly be.  NICU nurses on hand, equipment near by, prayers in progress, I gave birth to our second son, Luke Alexander Pruitt.  He was perfect.  Ten little fingers and ten little toes.  His APGAR was perfect.  His organs were perfect.  There was nothing wrong with this baby!!  NOTHING!!  Woo-Hoo!!!  Of course, consequences of CMV could present as far away as 2-years-old.  Wait...what?!

For two years I watched Luke.  I looked for any signs of hearing-loss, weakened eye-sight, or learning disabilities.  I couldn't do anything about hearing or seeing, but I did my best to feed him intellectually.  The first song I sang to him was The Alphabet (well, after Jesus Loves Me).  It was funny...when I started singing The Alphabet to him, he was exactly two minutes old...and he looked up at me and held a steady gaze throughout the whole song.  After that, we noticed that anytime he was fussy or upset, we could just sing The Alphabet and he'd calm right down.  When he was seven months old, I was trying to distract him from a hurting boo-boo so I sang the song wrong on purpose.  "A B D C..."  He whipped his head around to me and said, "C D!!" 

I thought, I have a genius!  I put some alphabet blocks in front of him and (in between chewing on them and throwing them) he put them in perfect alphabetical order.  At nine months, he crawled over to a book and read the title to me.  I thought he just knew what the book was.  "Color and Shapes."  He'd looked at it and said, "Colors and Shapes".  I turned it to a random page and pointed to a green circle and asked, "What's that?"  He said, "Green circle!"  Genius!  Woo-Hoo!  He could spend an hour or more in front of the refrigerator spelling words with the alphabet magnets.  At 14 months, he began writing...sentences.  (Spelled correctly).

Mark used math flashcards with Maggie and Phoenix and at 18 months, Luke crawled up in is lap and began answering right along with the others.  Correctly.  At the age of two, he read through a third-grade math workbook and corrected two mistakes in it.  Genius!  Woo-Hoo! 

Never forgetting the CMV, I began to convince myself that Luke was autistic.  I had him tested and was told he wasn't.  My sister-in-law is an excellent speech pathologist and works with several autistic children and their families.  I asked her to please evaluate Luke.  She did.  She said he wasn't autistic.  Wait...what?  He's THIS smart and NOT autistic?!  Evaluate him again.

And again.

And again.

Not autistic.  His last evaluation was at 6 years of age and he is flat out, no argument, not autistic.

Hmmm.  Back up to three-years-old.  I took him to see his pediatrician (had a cold) and while we were waiting to see the doc, Luke wrote several math equations on the little chalkboard in the exam room.  His doc came in and was very intrigued by this.  He asked Luke several questions involving shapes, letters, colors, numbers...spell imagine, what's two squared, what color do yellow and blue make, what do you call a shape with eight sides, etc...  I'm thinking, Woo-Hoo!  FINALLY, someone is listening!  I waited patiently for the doc to turn to me and say, "Kim, Luke is autistic."  He turned to me and said, "Kim, Luke is a once-in-a-generation, Einstein genius.  Pretty cool."  Wait...what?

I asked, "What does this mean?  What do I do?  How do I help him?"

His doctor laughed at me (as often happens) and said, "You relax, watch him, and follow his lead.  I hope I'm still alive to see what this kid is gonna do.  It's gonna be amazing."

Right.  Watch him.  Follow his lead. 

Maggie and Phoenix are very bright.  They are gifted.  They are advanced.  They are well above average.  Maggie was reading novels at age 5.  Phoenix could multiply by 13 in his head by age 6.  Genius, I can do.  Woo-Hoo!  All is normal and wonderful!  Mark and I have three smarty-pants kids!

When Luke turned 6, things began to change slightly.  He was still smarter than anything we'd ever seen before (and random.  He would spontaneously say things like, "I like the author Patricia Polacco."), but now he seemed even harder on himself than ever.  Luke is a perfectionist.  We'd known this since the beginning.  He'd accidentally misspell a word and have a total come-apart.  He would get an answer wrong and be physically ill.  But, at the age of 6, he would have frequent melt-downs for seemingly no reason.  "I AM THE LAST ONE TO GET READY FOR SCHOOL!!!  WAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!!!!!"  We're not talking, "Aw, man, you beat me."  No.  Screaming and crying.

Then came the guilt.  Upon realizing he'd overreacted, he would apologize.  Not, "I'm so sorry."  More like, "I'M SO SORRY...I'm really sorry.  Really.  I'm a fool.  I'm just so so so sorry.  I feel awful.  I think I'm sick.  I can't stop feeling awful.  I'm so sorry."

I had my sis-in-law evaluate him again.  She had much to say, all wise.  Upon on urging, we called his doctor.  I talked to the nurse and said, "My son's a genius and that's all well and good, but he's having emotional melt-downs all the time.  What do we do?!"  She advised us that in these situations, the doctor would set up an appointment for consultation and then go from there.  She called me back within the hour and said, "Um he says he knows Luke and, yes he is a genius, and this is to be expected.  No consultation necessary."  And, just like that, we had an appointment with a psychiatrist.  Woo-Hoo!  Wait...What?

I don't know how many of you know Luke.  I don't know how many of you know of a Luke or have a Luke of your own.  I thought smart, gifted, above average was as "good" as it got.  But those descriptions don't even touch my son.  I found that "true" geniuses are amongst the most anxious people in our society.  Their brains work over-time.  The majority of them are on anti-anxiety medications.  They make up a large number of suicides in the U.S.  Being gifted is awesome.  Being a genius is something altogether different.

We being our journey June 3rd.  After his appointment with the psychiatrist, I will share what we know.  Prayers are appreciated.  And if you know Luke personally, please love him with patience.

That Ugly Sweater

Have you ever received a gift that you didn't like?  Did you go to the person who gave it to you and say, "I hate this.  Gross."???  Probably not.  There are some of you who will return it and exchange it for something you DO like.  But let's pretend this is a handmade gift that was made especially for you.  You cannot return it.  Do you go to the person who made it and go on and on about how much you hate it?  Maybe you complain to someone else about it, "This is the ugliest sweater I've ever seen, but I have to wear it."  But wouldn't you just DIE if that got back to the one who made it and gave it to you?

How many times have I commented negatively on some part of my body?  That God made.  Especially for me. 

I have crooked teeth.  Stringy hair.  Weird toes.  Knobby knees.  Round face.  I could go on.  And I have.  On many occasions.

And God can hear me.

Just think twice about putting yourself down from now on.  The one who created you can hear you.