Before I had Max, miracles to me were fantastical bible events or the stuff of movie magic like It's A Wonderful Life. Miracles never seemed remotely related to reality.
Then I had Max.
I was discussing this the other day at a BabyBjorn event to celebrate the Baby Carrier Miracle, out in October. It felt good on; I miss that baby-close-to-your-heart stage. And it was very comfy, from the way it fit to the softness of the fabric.
Of course, one of the nice perks about the carrier is that it hides post-baby flab from your previous kids. How awesome does my stomach look here? Fake babies are very becoming.
I enjoyed being hired to speak on a panel that included Nicole from Mom Trends and Mike from Playground Dad. Also amazing: The lovely BabyBjorn people are giving a generous donation to Reece's Rainbow Adoption Ministry, a non-profit that helps find homes for orphans with Down Syndrome around the world.
What I especially loved was that when BabyBjorn found my blog, they saw a miracle in Max.
Not everyone does; some people look at Max and see only a child with disabilities, I know. But there are many, many Max miracles. The little ones happen whenever he says a new word or sight reads a new word or runs down our block, doing stuff doctors never thought he would. It's also a little miracle every single time he smiles—I swear, sunshine shoots out of that kid.
And then, there are the big miracles. Like the fact that a doctor told us we could sign a Do Not Resuscitate at Max's birth and now, look at him. And how much progress he's made, and keeps making. And, most memorable of all, the day he took his first steps. That was Miracle Day.
It was Max's third birthday. He'd been zooming around for months on his walker and tentatively taking steps when we held his hand. Dave and I were standing in Max's room. Dave was on one side, holding Max, and I walked a few feet away. I threw open my arms. "Walk to Mommy, Max!" I pleaded. "Walk to me!"
And Dave let go of Max's hand and Max took that wobbly first step toward me. And then he took another. And another. And then he toddled right into my arms, a huge grin on his face, as Dave and I cried big fat tears of happiness. It felt so surreal, after all the praying and therapy and equipment: Max. Walking. On his own.
I never did believe in miracles. But you can bet I do now.
What's been miraculous to you about your child?