Tomorrow, we travel more than 7 hours for Adelaide’s pediatric neurology appointment. Some days, I forget all of Adelaide’s limitations and unknowns. Other days, it is thrown in my face at every turn. As I was sitting in our living room nursing our ‘typically developing’ Bess, my heart was just hurting. Bess is meeting new milestones every day. Today, she put her feet in her mouth. She and her big sister share socks.
Adelaide has the feet of a 6-month-old. And the height of a 12-month-old. And the head of a two-year-old. And the brain of no one else. We have yet to find anyone with her same brain structure and abnormalities. We have spoken with thousands of parents in a dozen countries. And I was wrestling with that fact, while still trying to embrace the truth: no one is perfect. We live in a fallen world. Not one person has a perfect brain. Or perfect feet. Or a perfect mom. It’s okay to be a mom who hurts and grieves and wonders and hopes and rejoices. And who experiences those things all in the same day. Or the same hour.
And I watched this six times and bawled.
I would love to see a mannequin of Adelaide. It would be a beautiful moment to see her stand.