Praying Without Ceasing

When I found out that I was pregnant, I was ecstatic.  I couldn't wait to hold my baby in my arms, I loved that I was finally going to be someone's mommy, but I was hormonal and emotional.  I was afraid Alessandra would come early, I was afraid there would be something wrong with her, I was afraid of the mystery surrounding being unable to see her.

When I finally saw Alessandra's perfectly pink round cheeks, met her big glistening eyes, and I heard that powerful beautiful cry I was so relieved. My little girl had finally arrived.  She was so beautiful, so healthy, so perfect. So many fears subsided.  The agony of childbirth was instantly displaced by the joy of holding my amazing little girl safely in my arms.

For six months, Alessandra measured big, blew through milestones, and we didn't have a care in the world. We've done our best to care for her, we don't take shortcuts in doing what is right on her behalf, and we take great pride in every one of her accomplishments.

When I first held Alessandra and cried those tears of relief, I didn't know that six months later I'd be praying every night for Alessandra's health.  The truth is that we don't know what the future holds.  Terrifying phrases like "poor prognosis" "devastating childhood epilepsy" and "severe physical and cognitive impairments" are now part of our reality.  I hope that these are fleeting worries but I accept that there are things that are simply beyond our control.  No matter how much we research, listen to advice, and devote ourselves to being the best parents we can be, we can't protect Alessandra from everything.

We don't have a diagnosis yet.

Hope remains that she will be with us in 40 years, healthy, sharp, and joyful as always.  But I'm not one to deny reality.  I want to be mentally prepared to handle whatever diagnosis we're given.  I've seen the bad moments.  I've held her during these terrifying episodes and felt entirely helpless.  I need to have considered the likely outcomes so that if I'm facing a challenging reality, I am not crushed by unreasonable denial about the situation.

No matter what further testing reveals, Ryan and I are fully devoted to ensuring that Alessandra meets her potential. We are so thankful that Alessandra has the benefit of an amazing family that loves both her and us. Our family has participated since day one in helping her have the best life possible and I am certain those relationships will only be strengthened through these challenging times.  No matter what the final diagnosis ends up being, I will remember my own words from my first blog post in 2013, "I know that if He blesses me with another child, I will be thankful for each day that he lets us have together" "Jesus has reminded me that I'm not supposed to live in fear.  I'm supposed to live with faith, hope, and love."

She is still my blessing.  She is still my greatest joy.  She is still my Eden.