El nombre de Isaac significa risa y no llanto.
The name Isaac means laughter, not weeping.
That's what my abuelito told me when I called him almost two years ago, crying because we'd learned that Isaac's failure to start talking pointed to more than just a speech delay. In fact, our state's early intervention program had determined him to also be delayed in the areas of social skills, fine motor skills, and sensory integration. He'd qualified for speech, developmental, and occupational therapy, and we had no idea whether these interventions would even help.
The entire next year was hard. It was hard not knowing what exactly was going on with Isaac, and it was hard to see his siblings' development progress by leaps and bounds while he (and we) struggled on a daily basis. Even as I was thankful for an otherwise healthy child, I mourned what I considered the loss of everything I didn't even know I had envisioned for him.
But even in the midst of my doubts, God has been faithful. He's led us to some wonderful therapists and teachers, we've gotten a few answers, and today—after a lot of hard work, a lot of tears, and a lot of prayer—we have so much hope. Especially since Isaac began to read, we have seen significant progress in both his communication and his social skills, and his sensory issues have greatly improved, as well. So much so, in fact, that this semester he was able to join his siblings in the integrated classroom at the developmental preschool that they all attend!
Naturally, we will continue to watch Isaac's development in the years to come, and we are anxious to do whatever we can to help him catch up to his siblings. There are hard days in which I despair of this ever happening, but—more and more—these are balanced out by so many great moments in which Isaac thrills me with all the new things that he says and does. It's taken me a while, but I now realize that my abuelito was right: This boy was meant to bring me joy!
Thank you, Lord, for the healing balm of Isaac's giggles!