Why I’m Not Breaking Up With My Daughter’s Disability
We’ve been together for two years now. My daughter, Ceci, introduced us.
After our first meeting, I obsessed over you. I Googled you. And once I learned all about you, I cried. I cursed. I questioned God. By the time I was out of tears and words and prayers, I learned to accept you.
Together, we’ve met many people: doctors, therapists and friends. And together, we’ve found an amazing support system I never knew existed before you.
We’ve traveled to hospitals in search of diagnoses and to department stores to find shoes that would fit over braces. And although we don’t have any concrete answers yet, Ceci does have a great pair of shoes because of you.
You’ve stayed up with me late at night when worry and doubt have surrounded me. As I cheered when Ceci took her first steps, you were there too. In your own way, you’ve managed to take some typical everyday moments and make them extraordinary.
You’ve proven to me that a 2-year-old can be the strongest person I know. And in doing so, you taught me that strength is not something a person is born with. Strength is born out of effort and sheer determination.
I never asked to be on this journey with you. It would be easier to break up, to call if off, to be done. But I’m not a quitter.
So as much as I would like to make this breakup official, I can’t. It’s not you. It’s me. And I’m OK with that. Because each and every day, you remind me that no matter what obstacle our family faces, there’s always hope. And hope is an amazing gift.
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