Not a cloud in the sky...

Cooper arrived one week early after an uncomplicated pregnancy at the end of a long, hot summer in Philadelphia and giving a new meaning to Labor Day Weekend. His birth felt easy, natural, and celebratory and Cooper was perfect.

We brought him home thrilled beyond measure and with the trepidation of most first time parents (even those in their late thirties) who realize the baby did not come with an instruction manual.

Someone famous once said that if we do indeed get to come back into this world, he wanted to come back as an Italian baby. We doted on Cooper and so did our families especially the Italian side which hadn't seen a baby in the family for 10 years. Cooper's best friend quickly became his Noni and she instantly became his advocate, safe haven, and chief spoiler. When anything of major import happened like eating solid food, getting a new tooth, or using the potty--Grammy was duly informed and appropriately awed.

Cooper hit every developmental hurtle on time. He was a tall, thin, and healthy baby. Strangers would remark on his beauty. He knew most of his numbers and letters at 3. He adored being read to and would often "read" books to himself. His favorite companion was our grouchy, old toothless german shepherd who tolerated him above all other humans.

He was shy and cautious but always comfortable in the water and at home on the beach. He had an unusual fear of doctors and hospitals. Our pediatrician noted this as out of the ordinary for his age. He also, inexplicably, developed a fear of flower shops--any flower shop. We would inevitably have to leave them shortly after arriving with him howling all the way.

When his sister arrived 26 months after he did, we were thankful for two happy, healthy children. His sister's demeanor was very laid back and we often referred to her as Zen baby in comparison. There were very few jealous moments and brother and sister were fast and immediate soul mates. Cooper protected his sister and his sister understood (and in her own way, protected)Cooper.

Although far from perfect, we were a happy and close family. We are not really traditional people but we had conventional expectations about learning and preparing our kids for their chosen lives. Our future seemed bright without a cloud on the horizon.

If Cooper were a time of day, he would be twilight.

We have rules and ceremony and expectations around our days and nights but twilight is a magical and shadow filled time. At worst, we miss it completely. At best, we stop, appreciate its mystery, and perhaps notice something we haven't before.

Cooper, my twilight son, does not fit in with the well trodden world of the "average" kid nor does he really fit with the world of the exceptionally challenged child. He occupies an "in between" place. It is home to him and an adventure to understand for those who love him.

Cooper endured preschool, was overwhelmed by kindergarten, and experienced defeat in first grade. Always a tentative child, we witnessed him spiral downward into fear, anxiety, and negative self judgement. Raised in a loving and happy home, Cooper at the age of 7 was ill at ease and desperately unhappy.

Quick, easily available, accepted solutions were unhelpful, perhaps destructive. Multiple meetings with school left us no better off and Cooper no better understood. A parade of therapists, learning experts, tutors, and psychiatrists gave us the full spectrum of experience from hope with glimpses of valuable insight to confusion with conflicting information to anger with pat answers and uninspiring diagnostic opinion.

In the end, there were no simple answers. No magic formulas. No step by step guide. Loving Cooper was just not enough.

At this point, I picture my family on a road hand in hand in hand. The road is utterly foreign to us with no map and no signs. We know where we hope the road will lead although that may change. We know it is up to us to choose our traveling companions wisely. We know we will have to be clear and strong in our beliefs. We look at our son and realize that we must trust him to guide us. We turn to the road and it is twilight. Cooper's journey begins.