It’s Mother’s Day—my 25th. My son Ethan gave me that title on April 10, 2001, and I couldn’t wait to meet him. He was conceived in Barbados, a romantic work trip for his dad and me. After trying for over a year, I was proud when I finally became pregnant. The pregnancy was perfect—no morning sickness, and I worked and exercised the whole time. Everything was wonderful…until it wasn’t.
At 42 weeks, the doctors said Ethan was overdue and could go into distress. I had taken Lamaze classes and was determined to let him come naturally. Induction had never crossed my mind. My mom had flown from Idaho to Virginia early and had already been waiting two weeks. I felt pressure from every direction. Since I wasn’t dilated, the doctors applied a hormone gel. As we prepared to go home, everything changed. Nurses rushed in, turned me on my side, broke my water, and said I was having a rare reaction causing a prolonged contraction. I didn’t feel a thing. Then another one hit. Panic filled the room. I prayed for God’s protection, as I had throughout the pregnancy. An emergency C‑section followed. At 10 p.m., Ethan was taken from his safe home inside me. His dad brought him to my side—curly black hair, all his fingers and toes. Perfect.
He didn’t cry, but his Apgar scores were 8 and 9. That night he was taken to the NICU “just for observation.” We went home Saturday. Easter Sunday felt like a gift. My mom returned home, his dad went back to work, and I began maternity leave.
But Ethan wasn’t gaining weight, even though he nursed constantly. At three months, the doctor said he should be weight‑bearing—and he wasn’t.
That moment changed everything. My perfect little boy wasn’t “perfect,” according to the world.
Living in Woodbridge, VA, we had access to top hospitals—Children’s National, Johns Hopkins, Mayo Clinic, Kluge Rehab. Test after test. Appointment after appointment. Therapy after therapy. No answers. One neurologist said, “you will have to care for him his whole life. You should consider putting him in an institution.” What is a parent supposed to do with that?
I left my job of 20 years. I joined a mothers’ group hoping for support, but their babies hit milestones easily while Ethan struggled with severe sensory issues. He often screamed without cause. Many days I couldn’t even leave the house. I’d collapse on the kitchen floor crying out to God—why? While they worried about their toddlers eating carrots, I thought, But they can eat. They can chew. Ethan couldn’t. All his food had to be pureed. He couldn’t sit up. Their struggles were real, but mine felt crushing.
One day, lying on my bedroom floor, defeated, I questioned everything—God, prayer, purpose. My faith was shaking. Then I realized my arms were stretched out like a cross. The Holy Spirit reminded me of Jesus’ suffering and that He made it past the cross, conquering pain and death. Then I heard Jesus say, “will you love me even if____?” Even if Ethan never chews, walks, or talks? Tears came. I understood then—His love for me is unconditional, and mine must be for Him.
Ethan’s dad and I didn’t make it. The strain was too much. In 2008, Ethan and I moved back to Lewiston, Idaho, to live with my parents. Life was hard—carrying him up three flights of stairs, fighting for inclusion at school, struggling to get equipment, caregivers, or even a moment of freedom. The stares, the questions, the limitations—sports, academics, even navigating stores with a wheelchair. The grief of mourning the child I imagined is a deep ache that sometimes steals my breath. But God reminds me Ethan is a gift. “Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you…” Jeremiah 1:5. My mission is to care for God’s gift.
The enemy has thrown countless fiery darts—Ethan’s back surgery leading to infection, a broken femur from soft bones, a surgery leaving his leg two inches short, a biopsy resulting in MRSA. But I cling to Ephesians 6:16: “taking the shield of faith with which you will be able to quench all the fiery darts of the wicked one.”
The Holy Spirit has shown me that just as Ethan is completely dependent on me for everything, that is how I must be with the Lord—fully reliant, empty of self. Ethan has brought joy to many. God gave him the greatest laugh and smile, capable of turning hearts. Without that laugh, I don’t know if I’d still be here. I am weary, yes. But Galatians 6:9 keeps me going: “and let us not grow weary while doing good, for in due season we shall reap a harvest if we do not lose heart.”
Sometimes I feel like Ethan and I are squares in a world of circles—but God says, “do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind, that you may prove what is that good and acceptable and perfect will of God.” Romans 12:2. At the end of each day, we give thanks and trust that God’s will WILL BE DONE. One day Ethan will walk and talk. I can only imagine what God has planned for him in heaven. For now, we share a laugh and a smile and hold onto hope.
God gave me this verse for Ethan:
Jeremiah 29:11 — “For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you plans to give you hope and a future.”
Our dream is to open a sensory gym and learning center for all abilities called Ethan and Friends.
– Suzanne Brown
Suzanne Brown has a Certified Home where she is a full‑time caregiver to her 25‑year‑old son, Ethan, and runs a non‑profit, Ethan and Friends, that currently provides sensory activities at local community events. She also shares Ethan’s laugh by volunteering at a local nursing home, providing a Praise and Worship time with the residents.
As Founder and President of Ethan and Friends, Inc., Suzanne’s mission is to provide the community with a sensory gym and learning center that offers children and young adults of all ability levels a place to explore, play, and learn in a safe, fun, interactive environment.
“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.” Jeremiah 29:11
Connect:
Donations, volunteers, follows, shares and prayer are welcome. See website for more info and donations through venmo.
Leave a Reply