#whyIwalk

Because every mom knows her baby is one in a million, but never dreams he’ll be 1/123,000.

#whyIwalk

We walked for our son yesterday. I wrote the words above in my Facebook status yesterday, and “came out” as a parent of a kid with MD.  Obviously if you’re reading this, you know about my son’s diagnosis, but the big, wide world didn’t.  It’s not a secret or anything, but in my mind there is some distinction between telling his tale and telling mine.  This blog is MY story, not my kid’s story.  This is my experience as his parent–it isn’t about my son’s experience of it.  Someone suggested this blog was all about me, and not him.  Um, yeah, that’s because it is.  I can’t write for him, I can only write about him.

I cried my eyes out Saturday night before bed.  Ugly cried my eyes out until exhaustion and a heavy heart won the battle for consciousness.  My husband was reflective, sad.  He and I face nerves differently.  You may not be surprised to learn that I talk through my nerves, and as has previously been established, I talk a lot on an average day.  A LOT.  When I’m nervous, every thought that passes through to the next synapse, very quickly comes out of my mouth and every muscle in my body moves.  I’m a flurry of non-purposeful activity, and my heart races.  It is not pretty.  My husband gets quieter and his voice adopts a tone that sounds assertive and razor-sharp.  When he’s nervous, he knocks out a million unrelated tasks that would otherwise take him a couple days in about 5 minutes, and when he’s nervous, he has to be on time.  And by on time, I mean early.  So we were early yesterday even though I wanted to be late.  And by late, I mean precisely on-time.

The MDA Muscle Walk wasn’t so scary after all.  We saw kids and adults whose MD ranged from barely detectable to profound.  We saw a $26,000 (holy crap!) wheelchair driven by a pretty cool customer who joked and shared his camp stories. I briefly chatted with a mom who raised over $17,000 for MDA.  Whaaaa?  We saw smiles and high fives and several hundred people who looked a lot like us.  My son was curious and alert and moderately into it–he said he had fun, and I believe that he did.  His biggest concern/complaint?  That our team didn’t have shirts.  “How do people even know we’re a team if we don’t have team shirts, mom?”  Rookie mistake.  We were nervous, but that turned out not to be necessary.  My husband and I were exhausted yesterday upon our arrival home.  Walking–really, worrying about walking–was exhausting.

Team Greater Than Gravity raised over $1900.  Who are these amazing people?  My friends.  My family.  My heart.  Next year there will be a uniform.