Every time Ben goes to the pool for physical therapy, I am sure he will hit his mouth and rechip his tooth while getting out or while crawling on all fours on the deck. After almost two years, nothing has happened. In fact, at the dentist last week, the doctor and I congratulated ourselves for making it almost two years. Ben chipped his tooth on the school playground about two years ago. We had it repaired and it has lasted without any care to what Ben munches on. Yesterday the weather was cold and soon to be icy so we changed the physical therapy session from the pool to our home. About 15 minutes into the session, the PT yelled in a panicked voice, "Ben chipped his tooth." Sure enough, Ben chipped the same tooth that had been repaired. The fake chip came off when he hit his desk while making a transfer from his desk seat to a regular chair. When I called the dentist to see if I needed to keep the broken bit, he said we had jinxed our luck the other day by talking abou
These stories describe our journey with Ben, our oldest son. Ben is a sweet and energetic redhead, born with Rett Syndrome, a rare genetic mutation. My husband, Ryan, and I try to keep up with Ben and his two younger brothers. I intend to shed insight into raising a child with disabilities and pass on the wisdom we’ve earned over the past two decades.