Tuesday, February 19, 2013
In the spirit of the whole story, I can't post yesterday's post without posting today's post.
It is frustrating at times. It is hard. It is unfair.
But I don't even have the words to describe to you what it's like when it's good.
What it's like to watch Addison feed herself every single meal now after a NICU doctor said she might never come off the g-tube let alone handle her own utensils. (Not only does she easily feed herself, she INSISTS upon it)
What's it's like to see her face light up like the sun when she sees me waiting for her outside her room after preschool.
What it's like to then see her smile and walk confidently toward me with an air of sophisticated girlhood that wasn't there when I dropped her off. (another morning of happy learning under her belt!)
What it's like to have her arms wrap around me for a hug and then turn and say "bye-bye" to her classmates.
What it's like to watch her walk out to the car on her own after we worked twenty-seven months for those first steps. (and no she does NOT want me to hold her hand)
What it's like to have the Speech therapist tell me that Addison said "love you baby" to the doll she was playing with during school. (note to self: bring tissues to the next pick-up)
What it's like to see Addison sneak over to her friend's car instead of ours because she wanted to say "bye bye" one more time. (and possibly try to hitch a ride home with her so that playtime could continue!)
What it's like to see her learn and grow into this amazing little person who socializes the heck out of preschool and plays in perfect harmony with her brother.
What it's like to see her dissolve into hysterical laughter at something Carter says/does and when he laughs back, she laughs even harder. (It's like they're playing ping pong and the ball is the cutest laugh in the world.)
What it's like to see her playing tea party with her stuffed animals in her room when she's supposed to be sleeping.
What it's like to watch her stack blocks for hours and then when Carter knocks down her creation she patiently smiles and starts again.
What it's like when an unexpected word sneaks through those rosebud lips and sets the world on fire around her.
What it's like to be the mother of a miracle baby who daily defies the long lists of expectations and predictions that were handed to me at her birth.
I don't have the words because amazing, wonderful, fantastic just don't seem to cut it.
Astounding, breathtaking, spectacular, incredible, magnificent, extraordinary, marvelous, astonishing, awe-inspiring, impressive, stunning, thrilling, miraculous, unbelievable, exciting....
...and still I can't capture the feeling on paper. Because when the moments of good happen, they truly fill my world with happiness.
And no, I'm not trying to exaggerate to be sensational, or oversell my daughter to the world to avoid pity. I'm telling the truth. Just like I did yesterday.
I think God gives special needs parents extra hurdles to cross over to help balance out the extreme good. In the spirit of fairness and all...
Like peanut butter on the fingers of a curious toddler, this post is begging to be shared.
Posted by Deanna at 11:34 AM