Yes You Can, Fellow Human

At the end of May, we passed the two year anniversary of Grace's diagnosis. Last Tuesday, Grace had eye surgery. Today, I made two more appointments with specialists after two therapies. I'm going to be the first to admit that keeping up with Grace needs a lot of planning and coffee. She's doing awesome overall, and of course, needs some tweaking too with all the growing up. (That's where the specialists come in, for the fine tuning.)

A few hours post-op

Grace is constantly changing. Every week in therapy, I have something new to discuss with her six therapists. Her language is exploding - this is especially exciting since her stroke was in a language center, and we didn't know how she'd be affected or what the symptoms would be. Speech therapy is an amazing resource. On Wednesday, we have a transition meeting where she'll be evaluated for what her state-provided therapies will be once she turns 3 years old. It's exciting and nerve-wracking.

I was talking to my best friend about Grace, and we talked about Grace's diagnosis. It's part of her, but it's a complicated relationship. Most days I'm fine; other days, I feel overwhelmed. I try to avoid talking about future Grace - there's too many unknowns. I remember being in an appointment with the neurologist, and she told me Grace would never use her right hand normally. I was really taken aback - for me, as long as we did the therapies, Grace would get better, right? Well, the hand is a complex blah blah blah. One of her occupational therapists provided a more optimistic viewpoint, with the consideration that we just don't know. I find a lot of comfort in not knowing. It's the reason I try harder every day. Every day, you see, is a glimpse of the ultimate triumph. God has given me this little girl to cherish, love and teach.

Motherhood is a very emotional journey. When I write, I only write of my own experiences. I cannot testify to anything else. There are a few very distinct memories from Grace's first year which I carry with me: when they first handed her to me; when they first woke me up to feed her and I was still deliriously tired from labor; looking at her MRI scan. No one can love Grace more than me, and I take that responsibility very seriously. It helps me keep my patience; it helps me apologize when I don't; and it lets me indulge her a little more than others would. The same goes for Laura and Stephen. Sometimes just holding them feels like our moment in eternity.

Grace isn't neuro-typical, like her two siblings. And that's okay. Everyone has trials in life. Grace's trials will be many, and she has an amazing support system on both sides of the family, as well as friends, therapists and doctors who love her. That alone can sustain a person.

So can possibility...

{chills, right?!}

I dwell in Possibility —
A fairer House than Prose —
More numerous of Windows —
Superior — for Doors —

Of Chambers as the Cedars —
Impregnable of Eye —
And for an Everlasting Roof
The Gambrels of the Sky —

Of Visitors — the fairest —
For Occupation — This —
The spreading wide my narrow Hands
To gather Paradise —

by Emily Dickinson 

Grace has limits physically. We're working on those. A good attitude and perseverance is the best asset in life. A life centered on Christ; a live given to others and served in love. These are the things the world needs. 

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