This is my handsome little nugget, D. Our second child, only son, mender of broken hearts and bearer of dreams.

He was born into our family at a time when everything was up in the air and the unknown future was so daunting. I was 4 months pregnant with him when we found out about E’s autism diagnosis and I didn’t know if the unborn baby in my belly would also be born with the same special needs his older sister now had.

It was as though he came roaring into the world determined to heal his mama’s broken heart. From as early as the day he was born, he exceeded every expectation and worry I’d had. He gave me the VBAC delivery that I was hoping for against all odds and was a champion nurser. I was so wary for signs of autism in him but as if in an effort to reassure me that he was fine, he gave me social smiles at 6 weeks, coos at 2 months, pointing & babbles at 9 months, and an impressive toddler vocabulary by his first birthday. He met every milestone I held my breath for and then some so that my attention and energy could be focused on getting big sister the interventions she needed rather than worrying about him and whether he needed them as well.

My sweet sweetheart, who repaired this heart that was filled with shattered pieces of a dream broken by E’s autism. All the Mother’s Day cards, funny conversations, and school recital moments we missed out on with our firstborn, we received back in double — no triple the portion with our vibrant son who doesn’t lack personality in any area.

But I still worry about him sometimes … that I’m placing too many of my hopes and expectations on him, wanting to fulfill all the aches and longings that are left in the wake of our journey in special needs parenting with E. How do I walk the fine balance of raising a MAN, a godly man, who will stand up for those who are lesser than in this world, without placing the great burden of constantly worrying about his biggest sister on his shoulders? How do I teach him to be compassionate and yet also give him the freedom to live his life without constantly looking to us to make sure we’re okay?

My special little dude, wedged between two very different girls. His older sister gets so much attention simply because she presents us with challenges we never anticipated we’d have, and his younger sister gets so much attention because she’s the baby of the family and knows how to work a crowd with her dimpled smile. (Seriously, that girl has never met a stranger she didn’t like.) I feel like I’m constantly fighting to remind myself to extend extra grace to him; he’s in a tough middle spot that I have no understanding of myself.

My prayer and hope is that he’ll grow up to truly know how much my heart grew after he became a part of our family. He may not be autistic or a pig-tailed, chubby-cheeked baby girl but he was the first of my kids to reach out his arms willingly to me and call me “umma”. The first to learn how to have a full-fledged conversation with me, the first to openly share his daily musings during bedtime conversations. The first to challenge my parental authority by asking “why?”, the first to spew so much attitude from his little mouth it made me wonder how all my own sinful tendencies and habits ended up in a 4-year old’s body. The first to verbalize a desire to show an act of kindness for someone else on his own volition. The first to give me the kind of motherhood experience I’d always imagined I’d have when we gave birth to E years earlier.

And there is so much to celebrate in that.