learning from my daughter

While my daughter was being formed in the womb of her birth mother, she had a traumatic brain injury.  Well, at least, that is what we think happened.  Every doctor we have seen has told us we will never really know.  I don't like that.  I like to know everything.  I like to pick apart every medical mystery until I arrive at a conclusive answer.  But I am learning to rest in the unknown.

She spent the first three years of her life with a gaping hole in the roof of her mouth.  Cleft palate, they call it.  Three years.  I look at my little two year old and try to imagine.  It is difficult to even begin that thought process and going down that trail for much more than a few seconds is too much for my heart.   Then at the age of three, she entered the hospital to have her palate rebuilt.  This is one of her first memories.  She remembers getting up in the middle of the night and leaving for the hospital.  This should not be a child's first memory.  Every professional says that whoever did the surgery knew what they were doing.  We have no idea who did the surgery.  I am not okay with that.  She remembers being there alone.  I am not okay with that either.  But I am learning that while I cannot change her past, slowly, healing is coming by being present in her present.

Last fall she had her pelvic and femoral head structure completely rebuilt.  We had to have this surgery done because she had spent too much time in a crib and not enough time in therapy the first five years of her life.  This one is still too much for me to process.  Every time I think about it the anger and pain of life burn inside me and the why and what if questions threaten to consume my brain.  But I am learning to not question the timing and rest in the knowledge that she did come home before it was too late to make a difference.

Three and half years ago, she left everything she knew and became a part of our family.  All of our lives turned upside down.  Life was hard for everyone for a long time.  She had learned to survive but unfortunately all of her past coping mechanisms were not healthy for her or for being a part of a family.  As I look back over these past years, there are so many things I would do differently.  Regret seeks to consume if given an opportunity.  But I am learning to give both myself and my daughter more grace.

Neither of us are the same people we were three years ago.  I could not be who I am now back then. The gift of adversity is the opportunity to grow in ways you never imagined possible.  Our daughter has worked so hard and overcome so many obstacles.  And when I think about it, I have too.  I think that is why I started crying today as I sat holding a baby doll in a tiny little therapy office.  Some kind person donated some American Girl dolls to the hospital where we receive therapy.  A place that has become our second home.  We are there so often that the staff has joked about putting us on the payroll.  Yes, this has become our place of joy and pain and healing and connecting.  And today a tremendous blessing.  Out of all the patients that come in and out of that office, our little girl was chosen to receive the doll of the year for Christmas.  I was overwhelmed with emotion.
I am going to wrap it up  and place it under the tree with a little note....

Dear Eliana,   this is for all your hard work this year,  love, all your doctors and therapists

It know it is just a doll, but I felt like we were both being acknowledged for all our hard work this year.  In the midst of all the struggles and the failures WE are also learning and growing and bonding and healing.  And when I look at that doll, I am reminded of all of those things.  And the huge gift that my daughter is to my life.