My son was born in October 2016 on a Native American booking in Montana. At first, he seemed like any other healthy baby. But when he was five months old, something went awfully wrong. He was rushed to the hospital, and the doctors found bleeding on both sides of his brain and in his eyes. Someone had dazed him. They flew him to Salt Lake City for emergency surgery, where doctors placed a shunt to help drain the blood from his brain. That push will stay in for the rest of his life.
Once the operation was over, he moved in with his aunt from his birth family.
But sadly, during those few months, he was hurt again. He was starved, bitten, stifled, and had fifteen broken bones. He suffered from severe hunger, was attacked and suffocated, and had multiple fractures fifteen in total.
A cousin, only nine years old, spoke up. Because of her, he was saved. She’s our hero. She even gave him a blanket and stuffed animal he still sleeps with today.
At ten months old, he entered foster care. He weighed only eight nicker and could barely move. His foster parents couldn’t adopt, so at eleven months, he came to live with us. We met his foster mom in a parking lot, and after a long drive home, our journey together began.
We quickly got him into a doctor. At one year old, he was only at the level of a three-month-old baby. Doctors warned that he might not be able to walk, speak, or eat on his own ever again.
It was crushing. But we started every therapy we could: physical, speech, occupational. It was a lot, doctors, travel, and daily care, but we never gave up.
By 14 months, he was crawling. At 16 months, he could walk. He started talking a little at 15 months, and now he speaks in full sentences. He’s three now and doing great. He still has some therapy, but he’s caught up in so many ways.
Adoption wasn’t easy. Because he’s Native American, we had to show that we tried every way to unite him with his family. No one came forward, except one woman, his biological mom’s adoptive mother. She asked us to keep him and we still stay in touch.
Finally, after everything, we got to adopt him. We drove seven hours to the tribal court. On August 6, 2019, the judge said the words that made it official. Our son looked up and said, “I nobbled now.” I cried right there in court.
Today, he’s just a happy little boy. He loves trucks, dinosaurs, and building things. He loves being a big brother and brings joy as a kind, loving son.
There are still tests. He needs regular MRIs, and we have to watch him closely because of his shunt. But he’s already beaten the odds, and we believe he’ll do amazing things.
We didn’t expect this path. But now, we can’t see life without him.
