After all my questions had been answered, thoughtfully, and in depth, I was satisfied. I went back to just loving him for who he was, and being grateful every morning when he was still with us. Zachy was the only child I ever adopted, who was expected to die very soon. Any time, in fact. So the wee morning hour vigils, and the later morning peeks were just my way of wondering whether this was good-bye yet. I did experience a lot of dread. Every time, it was so good that he was still alive. But I did not allow that to stop me from enjoying him thoroughly, as though he were going to live to be an old man.

 Our church had a baby shower for him when he came, and forty women came! We passed my dear little baby around the whole circle, and everyone was caring and interested. That was so sweet, because I had not had a baby shower since my second daughter was born, twelve years before. So Zachy joined our family fully. He went camping with us, he went to church with us. He was a good traveler, making his bubble sound in his nose the whole time.

 Zachy could neither see nor hear. He did not seem to be in communication with the rest of his body, but he certainly knew his nose was fun! That tiny little nose made so much noise! He was very much in tune with his own breathing. He never learned to make other sounds. It was as though that was enough for him!

 He would stiffen and move his legs and arms just a little, now and then. But he never responded to anything I did with his hands. He would not hold anything, but did not throw it either. If I put something in his hand, or held his hand, it appeared that he did not notice. He just went on bubbling. So he could not roll over, or control anything he did with his body except breath. He enjoyed all of his breaths. He was the only person I ever knew who actually used his own breathing as a toy.

 Zachy continued to get rounder and rounder as he grew older. He did not have a pituitary gland in his brain, which controls how the body uses calories. Either it had never formed, or it had been in the brain tissue outside of his head that they had to remove. So he steadily gained too much weight even though his calorie intake was not too high.

 He was able to cry, but almost never did. When he did, everyone sprang into motion. Such a pitiful little sound, from a person who was normally so content! I would immediately try my best to see what the reason was. I would change his position, check his diaper, see if he was too hot. He would always stop crying. So though I never knew exactly why he cried, I did know that he was expressing something, and thus, communicating the best he could.

 Zachary taught me a new concept. Where does happiness come from? Well, certainly not from a person's intelligence. I believe that happiness is given as a gift from God. I believe that God gave Zachary a blissful spirit, perhaps in exchange for not having the gifts most babies receive in this world. He made my little boy live the happiest life any child ever had. I didn’t do it, God did. His happiness was within him. Certainly, being loved and well cared for all of his life must have helped. But it was a gift. He was happy in his tiny world, made up largely by his own little noise, and strokes of his cheeks. I was so grateful that he found joy in those strokes! That was the one best thing he ever enjoyed, and what a pleasure it was for the one stroking! Those soft little round cheeks were just right for kissing and stroking.

 One evening never to be forgotten, God helped him give me a huge thrill. Lying in his crib in the next room, he suddenly called out "mama!" I could not believe it, and went to him, but could not get any more. He just went on blowing bubbles in his nose. It was my baby boy, saying mama for the first and only time. It was such a surprise, and such a delight. I can still hear that little voice, any time I think about it. It made a permanent recording in my memory. I want to remember it always.

 The very next day, during his nap, just days before he turned four years old, he had apnea once too many. My Zachy baby left me on a warm summer afternoon. It was a joy being his mother. It was a pleasure to love him. It was an honor to know him. He was a gift from God.