When I'm 64

This weekend has been a little tough. Friday the Neuropsych's office called and said they determined that no further tests are needed, they are ready to diagnose Simon with PDD. We are going in on Tuesday morning to meet with them and hopefully get more information and the start of a plan to act on.

Brian and I have been talking and trying to put a positive spin on this new information, but the words have been a little forced, and we're having to work extra hard not let the stress get to us. I know I've been a bit crabby with him, but he forgave me and tried to make me feel better by cleaning the bathrooms and washing my car (my, how the definition of romance changes when you've been married for a while...).

Additionally, Simon and I have both been sick (along with everyone else I know, enough winter!). This especially concerns me since we've been warned that break-though seizures are more likely to occur when a child has a fever.

So, tonight when I put Simon to bed, I felt tired and worried. Worried about a seizure, worried about the future. As I tucked him in, we were both quiet.

I know that there is so much that Simon cannot understand. So much I want to tell him, and that I wish he could tell me, but we simply haven't got the words. And I now "officially" know that this is because his brain is damaged in the area where communication and socialization skills are processed.

I know this, but I also know how much he does understand. Tonight, without needing words, he knew that I needed to be taken care of, so he wrapped his little arm around my neck and pulled my head into his chest. And he started to sing me our song.

When the children were babies, we would often sing them Beatles tunes as lullabies. Our favorite has always been "When I'm 64." Simon has heard this song since before he was born - in fact, Brian sang it to me while the doctors and nurses were prepping me for his cesarean. It has always been Simon's favorite bedtime song.

And now, more than ever, no matter what the future holds, I know I will always need him, even when he is 64 and I am 93.