"Perseverance is not a long race. It is many short races one after another." - W. Elliot
The
quote says it all. When you are the parent of a child with special needs, Every Single Day is a short race. And then
another the next day. And again the day after that. Some days have
multiple races. It's like running a marathon that you didn't get to train for.
There was a time in my life, not very long ago, where I'd wake up in the morning and convince myself to go to the gym.
There was a time in my life, not very long ago, where I'd wake up in the morning and convince myself to go to the gym.
Now,
I wake up and convince myself to take my sweet daughter to physical
therapy and occupational therapy, where I will be reminded (again) of
what she's not yet capable of. Reminded of how much work we still have ahead of
us. .
I wake up and convince myself that going to therapy is better for her than going to the park and swinging, or staying home and snuggling on a rainy day.
I wish for someone to convince me that it's not a necessary evil.
This never happens.
I wake up and convince myself that going to therapy is better for her than going to the park and swinging, or staying home and snuggling on a rainy day.
I wish for someone to convince me that it's not a necessary evil.
This never happens.
I
fight this battle every day. I'm running a race that I don't feel I can win most of the time.
I hate taking my daughter to therapy. I
hate doing therapy at home. I hate genetic testing, and orthopedic appointments and blood draws and evaluations and assessments and referrals.
I hate that when other toddlers are playing,
she is being twisted and stretched and forced to move in ways that are
unnatural to her.
I
struggle with these obligations. I consider "taking a break" from her therapy and other appointments, but then I have to fight the guilt that consumes me wondering if that would be detrimental
to her already slow progress.
And
then... she has a day that is beautiful. She goes to therapy, and
smiles the whole time. She actively participates, and never cries or
protests. She WORKS SO HARD. And all of that just to take some "steps" in a device that
is holding her up. But the excitement of this new adventure shines in her eyes. Terrible? Or beautiful?
Both.
That's when I realize... it's all worth it. She'll be okay. I'll be okay too. No matter where this journey leads us.
That's when I realize... it's all worth it. She'll be okay. I'll be okay too. No matter where this journey leads us.