There is a moment before he wakes, that I cherish each and every morning.  As you probably know, I sleep in a king size bed with Cody because he typically has seizures through the night.  Question it if you will, but after his last 9 minute seizure, it's a choice we feel fine about.  During the day, it's very rare to ever have Cody sit on my lap.  If he does come to see me, it's for seconds - to grab at me - get a noise in his ear - get a back scratch - then he's off.  I would go so far as to say he prefers not to be touched except for fleeting moments when he approaches you for a split second.  In the last 3 years, he has never sat on my lap for more than a minute.  There is no reading books.  There is no watching a video together.  And that's okay.  We take those fleeting moments with him as gold.  And the rest of the day he is moving, moving, moving. 

But oh in the wee hours of the morning, just before dawn, he always stirs.  At about 6am he starts to wrestle with waking up.  And for about 20 minutes each morning I am in Heaven.  In those 20 minutes, he crawls over to me and lays his head on my shoulder and snuggles up.  And he usually falls back asleep there.  And I lay there awake praying for him...appreciating the moment....appreciating him...soaking him up.  Oh, if I could bottle those calm moments, when he is not riddled with the cruel constant movement his body craves.  When he is not blowing raspberries, slapping the TV or windows.  Flailing right and left looking for some way to get stimulation.  That does not happen at 5am.  And this morning was no different.  He was snuggled up to my shoulder and had fallen asleep....then he stirred and brought his little hand up to my face and left it there to fall asleep again.  I count the seconds that I get to experience Cody when he's so peaceful. 

Then about 20 minutes later, he bolts upright, his hand goes to his mouth, and loud raspberry sounds invade the calm.  Within seconds he is scooting toward the edge of the bed.  I try to grab him for a hug...but he's off and down the hall.  I follow him into the living room where it begins.  By the time I reach him, he's activated at least 5 toys that make loud sounds....he's blown raspberries non-stop...he's turned the tV on to hear the noise....and he's pounding on the windows. 

But I had that 20 minutes.  And I get to know, each morning, how it feels to have a little boy who isn't sick, isn't running, isn't unsettled.  He's just Cody - asleep in my arms.  Like he was when he was a baby before all this happened.  And those are the moments that sustain me through the tough days when his behaviors are too much to handle.  I remember that it's not his fault.  That he doesn't want to be constantly tortured in his own body.  That if he a choice, I'm sure he's stay calm and peaceful.  But he can't - his body demands something different. 

I love this little guy so.  If love could cure him, he'd be the healthiest boy alive.  shawna