The doctors announced that Chaim Boruch would need swallow therapy.

Hmmmm, this should be interesting, I thought, as I conjured up creative ways to help Chaim Boruch follow simple directions for swallowing when, the fact is, it’s challenging enough for him to simply follow directions forI was nervous and scared putting his backpack on the table.

So last week at a follow-up appointment, the doctors mixed some liquid dye into his applesauce, allowing us to see via X-ray if he is ready to begin swallow therapy.

Very slowly, they fed him increasing amounts of applesauce until they reached an amount he could swallow with ease and efficiency. And it was an extremely fine line between strengthening his swallowing ability and G‑d forbid increasing the risks of food entering his lungs, which could result in pneumonia and other health issues.

After a discussion and a closer look at the X-ray results, the doctors decided that Chaim Boruch could begin swallow therapy. The only way for his muscles to become stronger was to use them; and so, on that very day we were given the go-ahead to begin the therapy that, G‑d willing, will lead to a full ability to eat normally without a feeding tube.

What would be the designated volume of pureed food to be given to Chaim Boruch, we asked?

One-quarter of a teaspoon in a bite, with a total of eight bites in all.

My mind read the instructions as: two teaspoons of hope, faith, prayer and dreams coming true.

But I was nervous and scared.

There was much I had to watch out for. Even though this was the start of a new phase, and I had yearned for this moment, I had also been basking in the joy of getting things back to “normal.” I, for one, didn’t feel like shaking things up with the endless potential hazards that were mixed into a quarter teaspoon of applesauce.

So, I pushed off the task for a couple of days, sorting out my own feelings as a mother, and thinking about when would be the “right” time to begin. I worried about Chaim Boruch not wanting to eat after the experiences he had recently gone through. I worried about the possibility that he would want more than two teaspoons of food a day. How could I explain all of this? Would he understand? Would every bite lead to a tantrum and a meltdown?

There have been many wondrous moments in Chaim Boruch’s life that have occurred on Shabbat, a time when extra holiness exists in the world. And again, it was on Shabbat that we experienced something special.

The candles were lit, illuminating our faces at the table with a warm glow. The kids were eating challah and their favorite salads, and sipping grape juice, savoring the tastes they await all week.

I turned to Chaim Boruch and asked him if he would like to eat a little applesauce, just “small bites” like the doctor said.

He nodded with excitement and a grin that stretched from ear to ear. I said the blessing for him while he dutifully swayed back and forth, mimicking the motions of prayer.

Then his little shaky arm spooned one-It’s been six months since he tasted food quarter of a teaspoon of applesauce slowly into his mouth. I could see the effort he made to close his lips on the spoon, push the food back into his mouth and then swallow with concentration.

Wow! It’s been six months since he tasted food. As tears filled my eyes, I could only imagine how very sweet applesauce could taste and how very good it must feel to eat.

After his first swallow, Chaim Boruch erupted with a magnificent “Aaaaaahhhhhh,” while pointing to each of the other kids, who were still holding their breaths. And then, as if on cue, the kids all burst into cheers and laughter and congratulations on this very special occasion.

We were so proud of him, and so grateful to G‑d for this day.

One-quarter teaspoon.

One-quarter of my heart.

Filled to the brim with hope and trust.

Bubby had come to visit. Packed in her suitcase were not only clothes for her trip, but also the memories that she shares with each of her grandchildren. She spends time reading books, going for walks and playing games with each child.

And I, her daughter, watch and soak upBubby had come to visit all the warm fuzzy feelings. Nostalgia kicks in, and I remember those special times of being carefree and curious about the world and all that’s in it.

I savor the scene of Bubby with Chaim Boruch. They enjoy a closeness and bond that is unique and loving, full of laughter, playfulness and the incredible language of silence. Chaim Boruch snuggles up close to her, and I can see complete contentment in his sparkling eyes.

There’s one thing that Chaim Boruch loves most when Bubby comes. It’s the special walks that she takes him on around the block. I would imagine that it’s not only the breeze in the air, the sun shining or the scent of freshly cut grass that he adores, but the feeling that we get when walking hand in hand with a person we adore.

No matter how tired Bubby may be or how recently she has arrived, I’ll find the two of them lost in some silly game or warm cuddle. It was during a moment like this when I saw Chaim Boruch try to communicate with Bubby that he wanted to go for a walk.

Needless to say, it is challenging for us to know what he wants without words, and frustrating to try to fill his needs and wants without knowing what they are.

Yet on this day, all things magnificent shone and all things miraculous blossomed. I knew that Chaim Boruch wanted to go for a walk. BADLY.

He was nodding his head, gesturing with his hand to the outdoors and using American Sign Language to try to sign “please” with excited motions.

However, Bubby would never have been able to understand what he wanted, and so I stepped in.

“Chaim Boruch,” I said. “You need to use your iPad to say what you want; otherwise, Bubby will not know. Please use a complete sentence and ask Bubby your question.”

I paused. Holding my breath, I prayed for him to be successful. I prayed for him to understand, produce “words,” and communicate and share what was in his heart and mind.

I watched as he sat next to Bubby with his iPad. Bubby’s eyes were moist with wonder and emotion, in awe of the endless possibilities in this moment.

Chaim Boruch navigated through hisChaim Boruch navigated through his communication app communication app, looking for the correct words and icons. Despite the fact that he cannot read and had many categories to sift through, Chaim Boruch’s little finger swiped, scrolled and clicked to produce an incredible sentence.

And within minutes, his iPad announced the words he had chosen. Slowly, with thought and deliberation, Chaim Boruch said: “I WANT GO WALK WALK WALK PLEASE.”

And there it was, the biggest and brightest smile ever! His face glowed and his eyes shone. The pride he felt filled the room.

Within minutes, I looked past the front door and, against the backdrop of the sun slowly beginning to set, I saw the silhouette of Bubby and Chaim Boruch holding hands. A picture engraved in my heart forever. A walk that could span the world’s longest journey in the steps taken around the block.

The dryer hummed behind the sweet sounds of kids playing. Just a regular Sunday afternoon, everyone relaxing and taking the day slow.

I was enjoying the moment, the baby in my arms, just soaking up the good feelings, when my 5-year-old took a seat next to me on the couch. Her beautiful hazel eyes sparkled, framed by her light-I was enjoying the momentbrown shoulder-length hair.

Shaina. Always full of questions and stories.

She looked straight at me and said: “So, what does having special needs mean anyway?”

Within seconds, memories flooded my mind. While I caught my breath (wishing I could explain how, after being up all night with the baby, I wasn’t sure I was up to answering this question), I knew I had to come up with an answer.

But what does “special needs” really mean?

Is it merely the words to describe the frustrating temper tantrum Chaim Boruch had only moments before? Or the grueling hours spent in doctors’ offices and clinics? Is the term just a phrase lightly tossed around to try to explain the moments of stress when walking in public with a child screaming in a wheelchair?

Maybe the term “special needs” illustrates the disappointment, hurt and unraveled dreams and hopes found in the recesses of one’s heart? Maybe.

But, then again, maybe it defines the raw truth about the incredible physical and spiritual makeup of a human being, with a heart that beats and a soul that breathes life.

Maybe “special needs” illustrates a broader spectrum of color—one that even the most famous artists can’t portray on the canvas of their imaginations?

Or maybe this phrase epitomizes the love and affection that deep down we all admire?

Maybe, just maybe, “special needs” describes a universal syndrome that each of us has been diagnosed with at some moment of self-awareness.

You see, I sat next to my little girl, and her question took my breath away. Not because I wasn’t ready to answer her, but because I saw the very essence of the answer in her. She was the answer.

At all of 5 years old, an integral part of our family and “team” living with and loving her big brother Chaim Boruch, she had not figured out what “special needs” meant. She had no inkling of the extent to which being “special needs” could impact a person. With no context for this phrase in her life, she was simply curious, searching for its meaning.

For her, there were no obstacles toFor her, there were no obstacles to understanding understanding her brother with “special needs,” a phrase she’s heard thousands of times. She was the example of simplicity, bridging a gap that, in her wonderful world, didn’t even exist.

After all what does “special needs” really mean?

I looked into my daughter’s bright eyes and saw a very capable, fun, loving little girl. And I answered her. I told her that we all have “special needs.” I told her that everyone in the world struggles with something. We all learn to do things that are challenging and difficult, that we all require help, extra love, care and sensitivity from others.

And sometimes, we too can’t find the words or the strength to take another step, either physically or emotionally.

We become paralyzed with fear, crippled by challenge and handicapped by our insecurities.

So, like Shaina, I ask: “What does ‘special needs’ really mean?”