We shall overcome

It's been a rough day for me, and it seems like at times like these are when I need to sit down and write again.  I wish I felt the call to write in good times as well anymore, but I guess those times come out in my photography.  It's times like this where it seems like the creative outlet of my photography does not cease the voices in my head and I turn here to give voice to them and release them from my mind.

I started this blog with the purpose of keeping family members up to date with my life.  It was easier to just get things out in the moment than remember them for Christmas letters.  Which I never seem to write.

Little did I know what it would turn out to be.  A chronicle of the lives of 3 amazing children, but really one super hero.

Yesterday was her 8 year check up.  Yesterday was the day she had the awakening that she wasn't like other children.  That she was different.

Yesterday, I sat with my child and held her while she cried.  And asked me why God made her this way.  And if this would ever go away.

She asked me if we were disappointed in her that she struggled to keep her attention where it should be.  She worried that her grandparents would be mad at her.

She talked of things far beyond her 8 years.  And, of course, I bawled with her.  My heart in pieces on the floor.  And the conversation has been at the front of my mind all day.

There is no manual for parenthood.  No book to read to tell you how to deal with these types of conversations.

But I told her, and I told myself of all the things she has overcome.  That I know she can do this too.

I told her of how she was born breathing.  Well before her lungs should have even been developed enough to do so.  Of how she had to learn to eat, and that she showed that she was ready to try well before her gestational age said she should have been.

That she came home before her due date.  Well before her due date.  And how amazing that was.

I told her of how fast she has brought herself up to grade level this year.  Of how smart she was and how proud I was of her hard work.

When you bring a child into this world, you never hope or wish for them to experience challenges.  You want them to have everything that you didn't.  I just hope that I can teach her to love herself for who she is.  Even with all of the challenges she experiences.  That the girl that she is - is so special and unique and someone to be treasured.  And that this won't keep her down.  She has shown her fighting spirit many times over the years, and I know she can do it again.

It's a funny thing.

PTSD.

It sneaks up on you in ways you never expected.

I thought I was ok.  I thought, hey, I even was able to go back and look at "on this day memories."  I got this.  This October will be different.

But it isn't.  Will it ever be?  Isn't 8 years enough?

How do I know it's here?  It dawned on me today.  I've been feeling stressed.  Overwhelmed.  Anti-social.  I thought it was just because we've been working 7 days a week.  Between 3 businesses and children, I thought I was just tired.

Nope.  That overwhelming, anxiety filled, you-just-aren't-good-enough-never-will-be mantra that surfaces every year at this time.  It always feels the same.  Most of the year, I can keep it at bay.  But October?  October is a lost cause.

I still don't know that I can read my blog posts from then.  Hopefully, some day she will.  Hopefully someone will stumble upon them and read the story of an amazing little girl did.  And it will give her hope.  And I will be glad that those memories are stored somewhere.  Even if I can't manage to deal with them.

October sucks.  Prematurity sucks.  PTSD sucks.

I see you

One of the hardest things for a parent is to watch their child struggle.

But there is something I want you to know when you are grown and maybe I'm gone.  And maybe you stumble upon this in some random memory or search or something.  I want you to know that I see you.

I see the girl who sees someone or something get hurt and immediately jump in to try to help.  I see someone who is so full of compassion that her first reaction when I got hurt was to get a plastic bag to fill with ice.  I see someone who told me not to worry because you'll be ok so I wouldn't hurt anymore.

I see someone who is struggling with things well above her age and who doesn't know what to do.  I see someone who has immense strength and tenacity and will, who has shown this since the day she was born.  Well before her time.

I see someone who puts such complicated thoughts together that she often leaves me in awe of just how smart she is.  I see someone who can reach the stars, if only she'd believe in herself.

I see you.  I see a beautiful, brilliant, strong, courageous, tenacious girl who will move mountains.  And it breaks my heart to see you see yourself as anything less.