Posted: Monday, January 13, 2014 12:40:08 AM
My sweet little peanut,
It’s funny, we started calling you that because you were so tiny that you barely fit into “premie” clothes and size one diapers. We have come a long way from those days and you are growing beautifully. In these first two years of life you have shown more drive and determination than some people show in a lifetime. Your "limitations" and the label doctors have placed on you have not been able to define you because somehow you push through and keep on defying odds. You are a hero. Mommy and Daddy are so proud.
You are sure to face more uphill battles this year. There are going to be countless therapy sessions, endless miles to visit specialists, and some days seeing children run around in the supermarket as I push you in your wheelchair will be just enough to break my heart.
It is on those days that I pray you never know. I hope you never know that some days Mommy isn't super woman. I hope I can ease your pain without showing you mine. I pray that I can remain strong and smile through the ignorance of people's stares or the brazen questions they ask as we wait in line at the grocery store.
In 2014, I hope you remain blissfully unaware of how cruel the world can be so that you can be confident and happy, never realizing that you are working so hard for what comes naturally to most of those around you.
I am afraid that you will become aware that children all around you are walking, running, and speaking while you remain trapped within your body fighting against it for some kind of control. I am terrified that this will cause you unhappiness and I will be left powerless.
Or maybe I am even more afraid that you will realize against this diagnosis I am already powerless, that I cannot fix every “owie” or “booboo” with a kiss and a cuddle. That you will discover some things in life are not so simple, or that sometimes life is simply not fair.
One day you will realize that other kids are playing while you are learning to chew in feeding therapy, or struggling to sit on your own in physical therapy. I guess, I just hope 2014 is not the year of that realization. Then again, maybe I also still hope 2014 might be the year we prove all the doctors wrong and you sit unsupported, or take a few steps or say out loud “I want _____ Mama” without a communication device.
No matter the outcome little Peanut, Mommy will be here. We will dance happily to our own little tune on the good days. On the bad days, Mommy will wipe the tears from your cheeks and if I cry some tears of my own, I hope you never know.
I love you more than anything.