It’s hard to believe that just three years ago, I was pregnant with the girls, just trying to get them to be born, not much thinking beyond that. I assumed if they could just be born, just make it that far, that all would be right in the world, and I’d have two adorable, chubby babies.
Now, I don’t know if that was naïve or just plain survival mode as the three of us seemed to be in a constant battle with the pregnancy gods. Either way, here we are, three years later, on World Cerebral Palsy Day, in a very different life than I had imagined back then.
Today, I have a rambunctious crew of an almost five year old and two ladies headed towards their third birthday. Today, we know what Cerebral Palsy means. At least, we know what it mans to us. Like so much, CP exists on a spectrum, and Ella seems to dance and giggle her way all around it. She is strong and capable. She talks and talks and talks. She uses both hands. She feeds herself and tells you exactly what she wants and definitely what she doesn’t; “I can do it myself, Mama!”
Ella uses a walker, with assistance, and a stander. Ella wears AFOs. Ella can sit in a high chair or another chair with good support. But, I don’t know what Ella will be able to do next year. I don’t know if she’ll ever walk on her own or if she’ll need a wheelchair. I don’t know if she’ll run or dance without someone helping. I just don’t know. No one does. Ella won’t know until she tries. I can’t tell you, I can’t calm your anxiety or answer your questions. I can’t answer my own. No one can but time. So, all we can do is sit back and watch what this amazing girl does. Watch her strength, her light, her smile. All we can do is wait and see what every child can do, can become, because life, like CP, is a beautiful spectrum.