Cried myself to sleep

We have been really busy in the last few weeks, including moving to a bigger house. My mother in law left to her country for a month and she is the one who helps me with Sophie. Sophie was having a hard time adjusting to her not being here and then the chaos with the move really overwhelmed her. I had to unpack the house within the first two days of moving, I even stayed up from one day to another to try to speed up the process. Sophie refused to eat for about four days and she lost a lot of weight.  But as soon as the house was unpacked and I reassured her this was “home” she started falling back into her routine and eating again. I am happy to report she has regained the weight and is back to eating every two hours.

This has been the best year Sophie has had since her birth, thanks to the combination of medication and respiratory treatments we have found a way to control the symptoms to her lung and sinus diseases. This has helped her maintain better health, she has a better appetite and she has even begun learning more and at an accelerated rate. I am so grateful to her doctors for never giving up on my girl.

Some days I don’t even think about Sophie’s lung disease but then we have a bad day, a really bad day that throws me back into that place of anger and fear.

Yesterday Sophie woke up with a nasty cough, its debilitating for her. But at the same time it is the best thing that could happen because without the cough helping her body get rid of the phlegm that phlegm would coat her lungs to prevent proper function causing lung collapse.

Her temperature was starting to rise and she was clingy and whiney which is not the norm for her. I started with breathing treatments and then her compression vest and we continuously repeated these throughout the day. She spent the day having episodes of expelling phlegm, it’s so hard to watch her go through that. She had a couple of bouts of drowsiness and turning blueish from lack of oxygen, each time it felt like my heart was going to stop. But I was able to get her breathing back to normal again.

I found myself crying a lot though out the day. When she starts having good days these bad days hurt so much harder because I am so hopeful for a miracle, that her body will become stronger.

Bedtime was the hardest. She was so exhausted but the cough would not let her rest, and as soon as I began to doze off she began to choke and by the time I jumped up and positioned her to clear her airway she had already aspirated on the phlegm. After cleaning her up and changing all the sheets all I could do was cradle her in my arms and rock her. And I cried, those heavy tears that have no end. Those tears that take your breath away, that come from the deepest depths of your soul where all the fear and pain hide. And after a long while when she finally settled down enough I laid her down next to me so I could hear her breathe and I prayed. I prayed over and over again, and I cried until I fell asleep.

Sometimes all you have to comfort yourself  is a good cry. Oh what I wouldn’t give for my little girl to be healthy. If I could take this disease from her and live with it myself I would in a heartbeat.

Harder than my reality… is their reality.

Today was a good day, Sophie is doing well and is the healthiest she has been in a very long time. We have bad days but recently they have been easier to control having all of her medication right here without having to wait for doctors appointments when there is a flare up. I feel like her doctor sometimes, I am definitely her nurse.

Somehow today though two of my kids brought up death. My teen son while out with me running a few errands brought up the subject and I don’t even remember how it started. We began discussing the natural process of being born, growing older and dying. Then it became a conversation about how our lives are not guaranteed and how unfair life is.

And then somehow the conversation shifted to Sophie, and I began to speak to him about how every moment with her is precious and that we must remember just how fragile her life is. We talked about the severity of her diagnosis and the reality that one day her lungs will cease to function and we will have to let her go. The tears flowed so painfully. He asked me not to talk anymore and we rode the rest of the way without speaking, just shedding tears and supporting that beautiful love we share for our girl.

A couple of hours later while hanging out with my younger son he began asking me questions about why we die, he is eight years old. It was odd, neither of them had been together nor discussed anything. I found myself again explaining the cycle of life and I made the difficult decision to talk about what the future holds for his sister. That was HARDER because he is so young and because I had to relive that so soon, again!

I explained to him that his sister has a disease that has no cure and that one day her body will get so sick that it will not be able to work and her body will pass away. I told him her soul will always be with God and when that happens she will then be watching over us but that all the love and memories will always live on through us.

He hugged me and cried. He told me he didn’t want his sister to die. He then went off to pray and told me secretly that he asked God to help doctors find a cure to her disease so Sophie could live a long life, like him. He came to me two other times throughout the evening to hug me and tell me he won’t stop praying for God to make her healthy. Each time I felt like I was withering a little more inside.

The thought of having to let my daughter go is so hard, but watching my children absorb the reality that their sister will one day be gone leaves me speechless. I don’t even know how to describe the heartache that watching their pain brings.

I had not even begun to deal with talking to the kids about this devastating truth but somehow it felt like the right time. My heart hurts, there is this deep heaviness that grows within me each day and it lingers in the depths of my soul just building. I know that one day it will become so heavy that it will debilitate me but I still try to live each day to the fullest regardless.

Each day Sophie learns something new, each day we watch her flourish more and more and her father and I enjoy every moment of her beautiful life. And in between those beautiful moments there are those moments that our eyes meet and the sorrow of what will come comes through without having to say a word, as if our souls know the magnitude of the loss we will have to fight to overcome.

Often we forget about the siblings. They suffer a tremendous loss and suffer in silence because it doesn’t seem a great as the loss of a parent but the reality is their love is powerful, their loss is just as great and we must do our best to prepare them, to support them and help them understand.

It doesn’t make sense, this beautiful child continues to defy the odds, she has become so much more than what doctors ever expected of her and yet each day her body is fighting an arranged fight. She fights to remain alive while her body fights to shut itself down. The doctors tell us they don’t understand how she is still alive but I can tell you why, her soul and will to live are powerful. She will not give up her fight until it’s time to go home and rest and until that moment arrives we will continue to fight for her and with her.

How do I go on?

How do I go on knowing what the future holds? In the last couple of weeks I have learned that my precious girl is fighting against the clock of life, her time is ticking away faster than we could have imagined. I’m not ready, I don’t think I could ever be ready.

I’ve written about Sophie having Cri du Chat Syndrome and with it developmental delays but that is  nothing in comparison to the sickness this syndrome has caused my little girl. Because of this syndrome Sophie was born fighting for her life, her lungs and neurological system were very immature despite that fact that she was born just three weeks before her due date. Heart and liver complications, aspirating, constipation, reflux, hearing loss, sub mucous cleft palate, microcephaly and the list goes on and on. But the worst thing that this syndrome caused was a rare lung disease called PCD, Primary Ciliary Dyskenisia (click here to read about the diagnosis).

PCD has been the primary cause of Sophie’s sickness, all of her choking, her sinus disease and all the respiratory infections that have plagued her little body. Sophie was only diagnosed with this disease last year in June 2013. Now that we know she has PCD we are treating her to help slow down the deterioration process but so much damage has already been done. In only a few short years the horrific bacteria that have invaded her little body have begun to destroy it and in the process essentially taking her life slowly.

I was told I need to prepare to let go of my child, possibly sooner rather than later. How can I do that? How is that even possible? How can I continue to live my life without being angry or bitter, without losing my faith. Honestly, I do not know. I look at my beautiful innocent child and all I see is pure light and love, I look forward to her amazing smile and energy everyday. How do I go on knowing one day she won’t be there to greet me when I wake up.

I walk through the door everyday and she runs around the living room in extreme excitement knowing that I will lift her up and fill her with hugs and kisses and her amazing laugh fills the room with delight. How do I go on knowing one day she won’t be there?

It’s the smallest of things like making sure there is always avocados, bananas and vanilla ice-cream for her to eat; making sure she has her favorites is something that runs through my mind each day. How do I go on knowing one day I won’t need to bring her home her goodies.

It’s everything about her, even in those moments when she is on sensory overload that she cries and jumps until she gets the car ride she so desperately needs to calm herself. How do I go on knowing she won’t need a ride one day?

How do I go on and try to imagine my life with out one of my children? It is a cruel reality many of us are forced to live in. But, somehow I must go on. I must learn to move forward and one day I will wake up and I won’t have a choice.

But until that day comes I will live each day to the fullest, I will love my precious little girl like no other. I will fight for her till the end of the heavens if I have too. I will go on because I cannot waste one precious moment wondering how or why?

I cannot let this break me. Life is unfair, bad things happen to good people everyday and it’s no one’s fault, it is just a part of life. All I can do is cherish each day and do my best to keep my little girl as healthy as possible. All of a sudden the things I was heavily dwelling on just a few months ago like her not being able to go to school or able to go to a birthday party seem so insignificant to me. Those things I was protecting her from will come back to get her anyway.

I never thought my life would lead me down this path, I would not wish this heartache on anyone. But I will tell you that those who have had the pleasure of meeting my little girl and being a part of her life will tell you there is something about her soul that fills you with love and peace.

For now I will pray, I will be grateful she is still by my side. I will not let anger destroy me, nothing will taint the beauty of her life. A beautiful, perfect soul. And now and forever I will be the lucky one to say that she is my daughter.

Kindergarten

Sophie is five years old, these have been some overwhelming years. What an amazing blessing she has been in my life, I love to watch her just be herself, and I bask in her light. I never imagined this child whom I was told would never learn or possibly even survive would not only surpass what the doctors claimed her limitations would be but would be such an amazing individual.

Being five also brings with it the commencement of what should be the beginning of Sophie’s  primary education. We had hoped that she would have the opportunity to have that education in a school where she could share all of those new experiences with other children. But as I have learned there are some things in life we just have no control over.

When the doctors prohibited us from even considering school I was devastated. For a long time I was afraid of the idea of sending her to school. I was afraid of what someone might do to her and I feared that she would lack the ability to communicate with me if something went wrong. But, in the last two years Sophie has blossomed in so many ways, especially with social interaction that it became so obvious that she would flourish if given the opportunity to attend school. Sophie loves being around people especially other children and while her development is delayed it does not inhibit her ability to engage.

During this last year I have tried to let go of those feelings of immense sadness knowing that Sophie will always have to be homeschooled no matter what. For several months I thought I was ok until I began to see photos of other children her age graduating pre-school and getting ready for that huge milestone of beginning Kindergarten. I haven’t even had the emotional strength to get her Pre-K cap and gown pictures taken.

As the days approached that day, the day she should be starting Kindergarten my heart sank a little more each day. I see her grab her shoes and gear up to leave the house but she does not understand why she cannot be included in all of the excitement. And it’s not so bad now because her little brother is home with her all day so she has a playmate. Next year her little brother will be in preschool and Sophie will not have that companionship, that day will be a very sad day. I worry about how she will adjust being alone for hours on end with no one her age to interact with.

To make matters worse school started three weeks ago and I am still dealing with the school to get her homebound services started. I have to say The Palm Beach County School System is a joke. Children with Special Needs are disregarded, their education is not important. No one does their jobs, no one returns phone calls and parents have to make big stink in order to get someone to do something.  it’s truly awful.

This whole situation is just very saddening and as much as I try to move on this subject has become very heavy on my heart.

When I was afraid.

There was a time when I was so afraid of the unknown that it consumed me, while I don’t live in that place anymore keeping the fear away will always be a work in progress.

When Sophie was diagnosed with Cri du Chat Syndrome I went through several phases before I reached acceptance. My first struggle was with denial, I just could not believe that this was happening to me. I did not want to have a sick child or a child with developmental delays. I was mad, mad at God and the world. I felt betrayed by God, I screamed at him a lot. I broke up with him, turning my back on my faith not understanding why he would do this to me.

With time that anger turned to fear, the anger began to dissipate very slowly and I began to breathe again. I became obsessed with the syndrome, I think deep down I was searching for answers as to why this had happened to my daughter, to me. I eventually realized my questions would have no answer that would satisfy me and I had to let it go.

I remember reaching out to a handful of parents via email when Sophie was only a few months old. Some responded, others did not but those that did respond were honest and through their words I could feel their pain. It scared the hell out of me. I was already scared of the unknown future that awaited me but now knowing how hard it could be terrified me. I never responded back to those parents because of fear. Later life would lead me to meet some of those parents face to face, the ones I had reached out to but never responded back too. And, they remembered me. I felt embarrassed that I never responded back to them after they took the time to write me through their pain. For that neglect I am truly sorry and I thank them for being so honest and letting me into their lives.

Now I am one of those parents. My daughter is growing older chronologically while her development is growing more and more delayed with each day. And it is HARD. But, the fear I had was so much worse than what my future has turned out to be.

When I was afraid it impeded my healing process. When I was afraid it shadowed the possibilities that lay ahead. I am no longer afraid. I have fear but am no longer afraid. I moved passed it and have hope, I refused to allow myself to be afraid all the time.

When I was afraid I wasn’t living, I was wandering through the dark searching for a glimmer of light. When I refused to be afraid for the rest of my life the light began to shine into my life again.

I am no longer afraid, it was not easy but I learned to accept and overcome my circumstances. Being afraid will only destroy you, I won’t let it destroy me. Ever again!

Sophie, your 5

Hypnotized by the SunSet. God is smiling upon her.

Sophie, you are 5. Five years old, it feels like just yesterday that you took your first breath. You have amazed me and all those who have been lucky enough to be a part of your life.

You have taught me the meaning of True Unconditional Love. You have taught me patience, acceptance and equality. Because of your existence I can now see the world with clarity, the bad with the good. Fighting for you has taught me the true treasures of life, family. For there is no greater love than the one a parent feels for their child. I love you with the same force that God loves us, his children.

You are a gift. You are my symbol of hope, my inspiration. Your family loves you more than words can describe. You leave an everlasting imprint on those who open their hearts to you. You are loved by so many! You are perfect, as perfect as each one of your brothers and sisters.

Five years. Five amazing years full of tears and laughter. I pray that God allows you to celebrate many, many more years to come, my beautiful little girl.

I love you!

Happy Birthday.