On December 14, 2006, our family grew in the best way when we greeted our son, Drew Parker. He reached at 1:10 p.m., weighing 8 pounds 7 ounces and extending 21 inches long. He had the brilliant blue eyes, and from the very beginning, he felt like the missing part that completed our family. I had a charming pregnancy, and funnily enough, Drew was born on his older brother’s due date. Life with two little ones started rapidly. With an almost two-year-old and a newborn both in diapers, the change was not easy. My husband had to return to work right away, leaving me feeling speechless. I worried about corresponding the requirements of my first child while caring for Drew, but somehow, we accomplished.
By the time Drew was 10 months old, though, things began to change. We noticed he wasn’t passing sound through his ears. He wasn’t flapping much, swarming, or trying to move. At first, I thought he just wasn’t prepared, but eventually, doctors placed pipes in his ears at 14 months. Even then, it was hard to know if he could truly hear us. A few months later, we thought we noticed him reacting, but something else start, body shakes, almost like chills, that we didn’t understand at the time.
As he grew, Drew continued to struggle with motor skills and speech delays. Therapies became part of our daily life. He learned sign language, used picture charts, and slowly adapted to routines. By age three, Drew started at Head Start, still needing support. His teacher was pleased and quickly noticed new fears, staring spells and bathroom accidents. Eventually, her husband, a doctor, observed Drew and suggested he might be having captured.
An EEG was arranged, but the results came back clear. We were told he was fine. Still, his symptoms continued, so we met with a neurologist. After a longer, sleep-deprived EEG, we finally had an answer: epilepsy. Hearing that word was a shock. I didn’t cry right away, I think I was too emotionless. Drew, just three and a half, smiled at the doctor as if nothing was wrong. Later, in the car, he looked at me and said, “Momma, I will be alright.” That’s when I broke.
Tests followed, an MRI, long hospital stays, more EEGs. Drew was diagnosed with nonappearance and myoclonic seizures. Medication became part of his daily life for years. School was hard, and learning never came easily. He worked twice as hard, but progress was slow. Still, Drew learned to ride a bike, fell in love with swimming, and lit up whenever he went camping. He had friends at school, but invites to playdates or birthday parties rarely came. When he asked me why, my heart broke.
In fourth grade, an estimate with the school psychologist ended painfully. The lack of sympathy left me in tears. Later, a neuropsychologist gave us clearer answers. Drew’s IQ was low, and his future was painted in limits, he may not go to college, he may not live freely. Hearing those words smarted, but I also realized labels didn’t define him. Drew is more than a number. He is kind, compassionate, and full of love.
There were moments of hope, too. After years of treatment, Drew had a normal EEG. His doctor discharged him from care, and we celebrated like it was the biggest victory in the world. For nearly five years, Drew lived medication-free. But in January 2022, everything changed again. Out of nowhere, he had his first grand mal removal at home. Watching him on the floor, dehydrated for air, is an image I will never forget. Another seizure followed at the hospital, and he dislocated his shoulder. The fear returned, along with endless questions, how could we ever let him out of our sight again?
Yet, Drew’s spirit never shook. At appointments, he smiled, joked, and trilled everyone. He never once asked, “Why me?” Those questions were left to us, his parents. Through it all, he taught us about rejection, patience, and absolute love.
Now, at 15, Drew is still showing us how to see the world differently. He has been to dances, helps with his basketball team as a manager, and dreams about learning to drive. His journey has been full of tests, but he remains the most extraordinary boy with a heart of gold. If there’s one lesson Drew has taught us, it’s this: perfection isn’t about being without struggles. It’s about implementations who you are and sharing your light with others. Drew may face more problems than most, but he is proof that being different is not only okay, it’s beautiful.
