It’s been a little over two months since we got the diagnosis that changed our world. It wasn’t unexpected, but hearing someone say it out loud and seeing it written in a report about my daughter still caught me off guard. I’ve talked, prayed, wondered, and questioned since that day in December, and I feel like I’ve gone from swimming in alphabet soup to living again.
Past the extensive medical records, surgery notes, evaluation reports, and diagnosis codes is my daughter. She is a person—a beautiful, smart, funny, talented Princess. Like her sister, I love her more than I can express and feel privileged and blessed to be her mother.
Is it hard? Sometimes it is. Some days I don’t know how I’ll make it to bedtime—or if she’ll go to sleep when that time comes. Other days are great. The quirks are still there, but they don’t seem as glaring or problematic.
When the shock wears off, and the alphabet soup has simmered down, what’s left is my daughter. That’s something I’m thankful for—and what I try to remember.
Do you ever have trouble seeing past a diagnosis or label to the person?