It's all becoming too real...

I'm not even going to try to sugar coat my thoughts today. As parents there are moments that get permanently etched in our memories. Some of those moments are times when we get to experience some of our children's major milestones. Who among us doesn't remember the time our child took a first step, or said the word "Mama"? When you are the parent of a child with challenges, there are also some incredibly painful moments that stay with you forever, no matter how hard you try to forget them. Never mind having to watch all of the physical pain - I'm talking about the emotional pain which can be even worse. For me there are a few of those instances that come to mind...

1.      The first happened when Kaitlyn was 3 years old. I had just put her baby brother down for a nap. When I came down the stairs, I found her curled up on the kitchen floor hysterically crying. When I asked her what was wrong, she looked me square in the eye and said "I can't walk"...

2.      The second was when she was 4 and we were driving through town on a really pretty spring afternoon. Out of the blue she said that she wished she could walk and run.

3.      The last one was about 6 months ago when she told me that the only thing she wanted to ask Santa for was "to make me a regular kid".

Today I experienced one more of those gut-wrenching conversations with Kaitlyn. It is clear that this whole CP thing is becoming very real to her. The two of us were just chatting about a few things, when she asked me what it feels like to not have cerebral palsy. She said that she wishes she could be like everyone in the world who doesn't have cerebral palsy...like Connor. She said that it's really, really hard to fall all of the time. She has been complaining that her knees hurt quite a bit lately, and I noticed that she's got some nasty bruises. Imagine what it would feel like to fall on your knees several times a day on wood floors, tile, and pavement?

She went on to say that she knows that she's going to have this for her whole life. I asked her if that made her sad, and she said no, it makes her angry and frustrated. Who can blame her? How on earth can an 8-year old begin to be expected to wrap her head around the gravity of dealing with this forever? How as her mom can I be completely honest with her without breaking her heart?

This was just one of those days when I wish I could turn the clock back to when Kaitlyn was little. I loved those days when Kaitlyn didn't know that she was any different than anyone else in the world. Her world was truly all rainbows and fairies and it was such a happy time. I guess that's probably true though for any child, not just one with challenges. Since we can't turn back the hands of time, I think I'll continue to relish in the happy moments, and deal with the difficult ones as they come. That is in the end the job of every parent, isn't it?