Today is "Hulk's" birthday. That is to say, Crackle. He is now 15. Just checked the clock, and yep.
His birth was not my fave. I had a lousy epidural that not only didn't work but hit a nerve (literally) and caused all kinds of extra pain. Yes, more than childbirth without meds.
My Hulk was born blue (not green) and didn't cry until they poked him to take the blood from his heel. This was disconcerting but considering the delivery I had I just sent Superman to oversee the doctor's care of our newborn while I counted the minutes until they removed that thing from my back.
Hulk was an incredible baby. He rarely cried, ate well and slept fantastic. He liked sleeping in his cradle rather than with me (this was new). I knew right away something was not right but it took me nine months to convince his pediatrician and another year+ for us to see the right doctor to get the correct diagnosis.
If you're wondering my Hulk has Klinefelter's Syndrome XXYY variant. Yes, that's the whole title and it affects every strand of DNA in his body. He struggles with everything physical (from eating to writing) and gets frustrated easily.
I know I have written about my struggles with Hulk from time to time but I would never EVER trade him for another child without the diagnosis. He is my Hulk. Mine. I love him. I want him to be happy. I want him to be successful in whatever he wants to do. Right now he says he wants to be a mechanic (he loves cars) and I want him to be able to do that.
What any mother wants for her child. Okay, any good mother.
I was happy to wake him up at 5:00 AM so we could sing to him this morning. I was happy to take him and a few friends to a pizza place with an arcade so he could enjoy his day. I was glad to stop by Toys R' Us and let him get an R/C Car (cars, I'm telling you!) and glad his brother helped him to buy an Android tablet from Ebay.
It's a good birthday for him. Yay!