My baby turned 14 on Saturday. Fourteen. Four-teen. Wow. I know the next statement should be the age old question, "how did this happen?". Wasn't it just yesterday they were telling me my baby was dying and racing me into the operating room to crash me and rip her from my body in order to save her life. A hasty priesthood blessing and the assurance that all would be well and I was rendered unconscious.
And all was well. IS well, after a manner of speaking. While her disability is evident to some, it isn't to others. She compensates well. Very well. Sometimes---just sometimes---I get a little catch in my heart when I see her right hand all twisted and bent, or watch her gait as she walks---but walk she does. No wheelchair or walker needed, thankyouverymuch. But sometimes.....just....sometimes.....and I never ever let her see my tears over her physical disabilities.
Who knew motherhood could be so tender and full of anguish and hopeful all at the same time? Oh how I love the gospel and the knowledge that my baby will one day walk as normally as everyone else. That the pain in her hips and legs and joints is a temporary thing here on this earth. How thankful I am for the knowledge of the resurrection and that imperfection will put on perfection. Her physical issues are paltry in comparison to so many others. I know this.
It was a beautiful birthday party for my baby girl. We surprised her with tickets to see Carrie Underwood at the Seattle Arena. This was her very first concert. She came home so excited that I don't believe her feet hit the floor. Thanks, Bonnie and Roger, for making this gift to her possible. Thank you so very much.
Happy fourteenth little one. I'll love you forever, I'll like you for always, as long as I'm living, my baby you'll be :)