The world is dark or light for Nicholas Stogner. He knows no colors, has not looked into his mother&8217;s hazel eyes or seen his grandfather&8217;s wavy silver hair.

He is nearing 2 years old and still learning to hold up his head, and his tiny fingers continue to prefer the clinched position.

For Nicholas, every day is a challenge as he and his family cope with a myriad of disabilities that require him to visit therapists on a regular basis.

But do not count him out. Surrounded by a loving family and guided by therapists who are challenging him to reach his potential and beyond, Nicholas is, as his mother likes to say, a champion.

Nicholas was born seven weeks premature in June 2004.

His parents, Eric and Jayna Stogner, marveled at their tiny baby, she said. He weighed 3 pounds, 1 ounce.

She recounted her problems in the last weeks of pregnancy &8212; high blood pressure and gestational diabetes; the decision by her physician to perform the cesarean section; the two weeks in the Natchez hospital; the helicopter that took their son to Jackson, where he spent five weeks in intensive care after his head had begun to swell.

&8220;The doctors in Jackson put in a shunt to relieve pressure on the brain,&8221; Jayna said. It was in Jackson, also, that doctors discovered a blood clot in the basal ganglia and the vision impairment resulting from nerve damage. He had seizures. The family learned Nicholas had cerebral palsy.

At 20 months, he has reached about three to four months developmentally, Jayna said.

&8220;He is totally dependent on others to take care of him,&8221; said Elizabeth Calhoun, his grandmother, who cares for him during the day when her daughter is at work as an Adams County employee. &8220;He is just beginning to respond to us with coos.&8221;

The therapy has been amazing, mother and grandmother agreed.

&8220;He&8217;s definitely making progress,&8221; Jayna said. &8220;And the whole family is learning about the therapy. But we can&8217;t do what they do.&8221;

From the beginning of the baby&8217;s problems, the family knew they were facing an unknown, probably difficult future. When a bill that should have gone to Medicaid arrived in their mail instead, the shock set them back, Calhoun said.

&8220;This one bill was for $79,000,&8221; she said.

Medicaid has provided what Jayna&8217;s insurance has not covered. Without it, the family does not know where it would have turned.

Recently, Medicaid has cut back Nicholas&8217; therapy visits to Key Rehab from three times to once a week and then reinstated the three times again.

Then the Medicaid program was reported to be discontinuing reimbursement for physical, occupational and speech therapy not provided by therapists holding bachelor&8217;s degrees or higher &8212; a directive that would affect Key Rehab, where registered therapists depend on aid from the certified therapist assistants, who graduate from a state-approved two-year program.

Key Rehab representatives went to Jackson Monday to discuss that change with Medicaid officials and expect to hear by Friday the agency&8217;s decision.

The workouts Nicholas receives at the rehab clinic are not only to assist him in developing his physical skills now. The therapy is for his future, too, his mother said. &8220;The therapy will prevent more serious problems down the road.&8221;

A typical morning session shows his progress.

&8220;He would have knocked himself out trying to do this when I first started working with him,&8221; said Cheryl Sanford-Givens, physical therapist, as she worked with Nicholas on head control during his second 30-minute session Tuesday.

His family clapped, cheered and encouraged him with every success.

&8220;Just get mad and do it,&8221; his grandmother said, as they watched his frustration in trying to roll over.

Nicholas has begun to hold his arms in the air, &8220;as if he is trying to feel the environment around him,&8221; his grandmother said.

Recently he began rolling onto his side. He had not rolled over from back to stomach before the Tuesday session, when Givens coaxed him into it.

&8220;Good job, little man. That&8217;s good,&8221; she said, as he rolled to his stomach. &8220;Now all you have to do is get your hands up there. You shouldn&8217;t have shown Cheryl you could do that,&8221; she said in a teasing voice.

She placed his hands in front of him as he assumed the crawling position.

Every challenge and every success, however small, is huge for Nicholas. &8220;He has made a lot of progress with his head and with the muscles in his side,&8221; Givens said. &8220;He&8217;s learning more purposeful movement, going away or toward something.&8221;

And every success with Nicholas means a better future for him, Givens said.

&8220;We&8217;re trying to do as much as we can now to prevent surgery. We hope to keep him from needing as little equipment as possible in the future.

&8220;When you&8217;re trying to hold your head up and the rest of your body is resisting, it&8217;s a big deal,&8221; she said. &8220;Everything he gains is a big deal for him.&8221;

With his limited speech capabilities today, Nicholas has responded to speech therapy, said Julie Johnson and Misty Tuccio, speech pathologists.

&8220;With stimulation of the mouth, the little words will start coming out,&8221; Tuccio said.

&8220;Stimulating the taste buds with sweet and sour desensitizes so that he is aware of different tastes,&8221; Johnson said, as the two worked together with Nicholas.

Speech therapy has included teaching him the difference between soft and loud sounds. &8220;I want him to imitate me, and he has done that,&8221; Johnson said.

Nicholas steals hearts, she said.

&8220;He&8217;s a wonderful little boy. I love him and love working with him.&8221;