Does every mom have a Heartbreak Kid? Mine is 4'3" and about 65 lbs. He is barely nine and still has more baby teeth than permanent.
The first time his cries broke my heart happened the night we brought him home. His two-day-old fingernails looked a little long and scratchy, so I got out my gleaming new pair of baby clippers and, feeling very motherly, started to snip. Of course, I got a little overconfident by the third finger, trimmed a little too close and drew blood. I had been his mom for less than 12 hours and already I'd made him cry. Heartbreaking.
Having a kid with special needs means letting your heart get broken over and over again. The first time you notice a difference. The first time the school calls home. The first and second and third time someone points a finger on the playground.
Today my heart broke a little at a meeting with the school. I'd had high hopes for placement in a "typical" classroom next year. And, while nothing has officially been decided, the staff gently, kindly let me know this might not be the best option. Maybe I had been overly optimistic. And, even though I'm a big believer in the power of positive thinking, there are times when looking on the bright side doesn't solve the problem at hand.
All I know is that when the Lord sent me my H.B. Kid, He also poured an extra portion of motherlove into my heart. The problem is that sometimes there are troubles even a double-dose of motherlove can't fix.
And now there is a permanent hole in my heart.