“Up! Up! Up!” He insists going up the steep, ascending railroad tie steps.

“No!” He yells when I reach for his little hand.

“No!” He demands after I place my arm gently behind his shoulder to guide him.

"No!” He answers when I offer to help.

People ask me how I find joy in the midst of raising a child with developmental delays. I think this picture is a great visual.

I could focus on the fact that this isn’t how I pictured my life to be; that I didn’t envision having a child who needed adaptive braces tightly velcroed around his feet and ankles and shoved inside this special pair of hard-soled tennis shoes.

Or I could feel defeated knowing our family’s schedule revolves around dozens of home visits, therapy appointments, evaluations and insurance battles.

Also, I could wish he didn’t need to wear a binder swaddled firmly around his abdomen to stablize his core.

Or I could be frustrated that his speech delay makes our communication more challenging.

I could, and I often do feel all of these things.

But when I look at this picture, I choose to find hope in my son’s strength and fierce determination.

I believe his courage to tackle the bumpy, uknown road ahead will take him places I can only dream of.

And I accept that even though I wouldn’t have wished for my child to have developmental delays, we will keep our own pace…one step at a time.

I choose to find hope in his journey, even when things are moving along a bit slower than I’d like.

We’ll continue celebrating each step along the way, regardless of where the path takes us together.

This post was originally published on ShelleySkuster.com

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