Transferring Power

Caitlin turns 12 today. It doesn't even seem possible that the little beanie baby sized baby that we carefully held, negotiating tubes and wires, is now in her last year of preteendom. Tonight I was talking with some women about my pregnancy with her and when she was little and it seems so close behind me as if it was yesterday.

I remember so clearly my first doctor's visit when I was pregnant and being devastated when the doctor so bluntly told me that the chances of me having a live baby were close to zero and asking if I had considered abortion. I rejected that and decided to go ahead with my pregnancy.

Then she was born and we were given the horror stories of 24 week preemies - that if she did live which was an enormous elephant in the room sized IF - that she would have very little chance of being normal. I rejected that and decided that she would live.

Then she had a brain bleed on her third day of life and also needed heart surgery. On my 23rd birthday still in the hospital recovering, a surgeon told us that she might not make it through the surgery and that her brain bleed could progress to "catastrophic". I rejected that and waited in my hospital bed with my birthday flowers surrounding me for news that she had come out of surgery alive.

Then she was home and we were told that her prognosis was poor and she was unlikely to walk or talk. I rejected that and believed that she would run one day.

Then she was a toddler and we were told that her hands would never be strong enough to write or cut or dress herself. I rejected that and had faith that she would tie her own shoes one day.

Then she was 9 and the doctor said that she would be in a wheelchair by 18 unless her legs were stretched and she received hamstring and heel cord surgery around 12. I reject that and I am watching her legs accommodate her growth without surgery.

I have seen my daughter through the whole spectrum of her life and I have seen her live, and walk, and talk, and run, and tie her shoes. I have seen her do all the things that she was never supposed to be able to do. I have always had faith in her and for her. Now she must have faith in herself and reject the harsh words of a surgeon, an unkind remark from a friend, the disbelief of a teacher or diagnostician. I can support her and stand by her but I can no longer choose for her. She owns her own mind and is reaching the age that my belief and faith in her has to become her own confidence and self-assurance. She has to now choose to reject the negative and embrace the belief in the future positive.