Monday Musings.

As I enjoy this last day before spring semester begins with its grueling master thesis project looming in my vision, I've spent the morning reflecting on how much our lives have changed in the past few months.


We went (thankfully!) from a time period where I thought we would never get out of the hospital for more than week to a blissful three months free from inpatient admissions.


A surgery was scheduled, and then subsequently cancelled.


And life, at least as much as it can be, is pretty "normal" at the moment. (Although, I rather doubt normal people go to therapy four times per week, but eh... its all about your perspective).


What makes me completely crazy is knowing that it can change faster than I can blink. And I have absolutely no idea what the future holds.


The reality of a raising a child with epilepsy is that you can have a really good month. Or two months. Or a year. And then your child can start having seizures and after an extremely long time of being seizure-free, you can find yourself whipping out a stethoscope, administering injections, and calling an ambulance. Just like that. Or your kid might never seize again. Most of the time, I just have to block it out of my mind to prevent further insanity. But its always there, lurking in the background. Like every time we plan anything in advance... I tend to think... can this be cancelled if Brooklyn gets sick?


Another thing that can make you kind of crazy is having a "spectrum disorder" where you don't really know how much your child will develop. I probably drive our neurologist crazy when I ask questions about what Brooklyn will be able to accomplish and what we should expect. She always smiles at me and assures me that we have no idea, and it'll be totally up to Brooklyn. And that makes me plumb insane. Because sometimes I think knowing would be better than not knowing at all. Will she ever walk without braces? Will she ever be able to run? Will she say more words than the few that she says now? And what about the future? Will she be able to graduate high school? Will she find someone who will love her in spite of her tendency to land herself in the hospital? I'd just like to know.


But then I was thinking... is that really different from any of us? None of us are promised to live to date the cute boy in high school, to dance at our wedding, or to hold our own sweet babies in our arms. The assumption that I'll graduate from grad school in May is just that... a hopeful assumption. Because in reality, I'm not guaranteed another day, another memory, or another milestone.


So maybe, just maybe, this sweet child is a reminder to her momma that we just need to take each day as it comes... to celebrate each moment... to treasure every accomplishment... to cherish each hug... and to live a life with no guarantees, and no regrets.


I sure hope that one day she learns half as much from me as I've learned from her.