A little MIRACLE

I'm going to warn you that this is a long story but I don't know how to tell it any other way. So I will share it with you and I may cry as I type because I shared it with some ladies at church today and cried the whole time. I think that as a mom, we are always aware in our hearts of our children's potential. But often we lose sight of those feelings. So this is my little reminder of potential.

A few months into the ordeal of Maisy's hospitalization, multiple surgeries, seizures, collapsed lungs, pulmonary embolism, etc., a neurologist came into her room. In the haze of memories I have from that experience, I remember my heart pounding, my mind swimming, and telling him that neurology was not an exact science. That for every study he could use to prove his point I could find another to refute. That children compensate and that the brain was marvelous beyond our understanding. I decided at that point I would take things as they came. In my heart, in my dreams, in my mind I could see my daughter playing, talking, laughing, happy. She was just a baby with so much ahead of her. When she looked into my eyes there were things no MRI or neurologist could ever see. I even had a dream one night that she was sitting at a piano on a stage playing for a large audience.

But sometimes in the day to day I lose sight of those strong feelings. Communication is a big issue, I sign to her she signs a little back. But neither one of us is getting our message across. Sometimes my three-year-old is throwing and kicking and crying out of frustration, and I too want to do all three because I am just as frustrated. Because Maisy doesn't eat she uses her tongue like a hand and just as you or I would touch something to sense it, Maisy might lick that same thing for the very same reason. Those are the times I forget what my heart feels or I wonder if some of those feelings stem from wishful thinking.

Maisy loves books, but she is kind of hard on them. She loves to sit with Mom or Dad and hear stories and look at pictures. This past week on Wednesday, while Maisy was at school I went to the library. I was in a hurry and grabbed a few books the kids had been requesting and a few of our favorites then on a whim I grabbed an unread book by a trusted author. That night I sat with Maisy, my little book lover, and read Knuffle Bunny by Mo Willems. She smiled and giggled throughout the story and after I was done she hugged the book to her chest. That night I let her sleep with it and for the next three days I heard her crawl as a shuffle one foot, shuffle the next foot, slide the book. I think I read Knuffle Bunny a dozen times in two days.

Then on Friday she tore the book and I took it away. She cried, I felt bad. That night as I told Evan the story, Maisy cried at the mere mention of Knuffle Bunny. So I read it to her again, but this time as I watched her I realized that my beautiful little girl was relating to this book. That she was understanding what it was like for Trixie to not be able to tell her dad what she needed. That she was so proud of Trixie for those wonderful first words brought on by a much loved friend. I also realized that every time I had read the book to Maisy she had been trying to form words.

I know in my heart that Maisy is capable of more than she is given credit for. One therapist told me that she believed Maisy would eventually catch up to her peers. I don't know what her future will hold. I have fears of teasing and broken hearts, sitting and crying with my daughter. I know that she is wonderful beyond what a sideways glance will tell. I know that whatever her future holds it will defy CT scans and doctors notes. This week it was not only nice to see a small glimpse of that potential,but for this mom, its my own little miracle.