Today, my youngest son TJ turns 18. First, join me in wishing T.J. the best birthday yet and welcome him to the world of adulting.

Honestly, though, every birthday is emotional – this one more than any other to date.

I remember crying when my oldest @connorclime turned 18 because I knew I’d have to let him go one day to fly on his own. Perhaps I’ve been emotional the past few weeks because, with T.J., I’m not sure we’ll ever get to let him fly on his own until the day we let him go to fly home.

T.J. was diagnosed 10 years ago, right before his 8th birthday, with Duchenne Muscular Dystrophy. The first time I heard the term “Duchenne,” I tried to Google it but was spelling it wrong. I remembered Jerry Lewis used to have a telethon, and I thought it was for children with muscle dystrophy, so I Googled him. (I was not thinking straight, hence Googling “Jerry Lewis” instead of “MDA.”) I finally made it to MDA’s information on a rare and fatal childhood disease that caused the breakdown of every muscle, including the heart and lungs. Several things stood out to me on that website that stopped me in my tracks; (1) “many do not walk past their early teen years,” (2) “many do not survive much beyond their teen years,” (3) it was talked about as a childhood disease, and (4) the average life expectancy at the time was early 20’s. Those few things were just the tip of the iceberg. For the first time in my life, I did not want to learn more. 

Life has a way of going on and teaching you lessons you never wanted to learn but are grateful for nonetheless.

• T.J. is still walking, but that no longer really matters. Sure, we’re grateful for it, but we also realize that his walk through life is much more than the physical steps he takes. 
• Many with Duchenne don’t make it to their 18th birthday. What seems to most as the beginning of the rest of their lives is a milestone we parents both dream about and dread at the same time. Life is often living in balance between wildly varying emotions – and that’s okay.
• T.J. is too quickly reaching the projected cap of his life, but we know that his life is in God’s hands. Having that unofficial life expectancy looming is like a neon sign reminding us to focus on today. It’s an obnoxious sign I wish we didn’t have. Still, the most obnoxious reminders are often what prompts us to take action, and for that, we are grateful. 

Not to sound cliche, but none of us know how many more birthdays we get to celebrate. So, we better celebrate the current one unapologetically, with style, and with all we have. 

Happy birthday, T.J.! Welcome to adulting.