The sun should be shining.
My little girl has her legs, I see them wrapped around me hugging me close and my soul burns with happiness.
How lucky am I?
To have a child with a disability hurts like nothing else but to have a child who can be cured, and quickly, floods you with relief.
But yet a cloud still hides the sun. I can’t breathe that sigh of relief.
She is doing bloody fantastically, she can climb stairs, she can pull herself up, she has stood for a second alone, twice.
She can’t walk, she looks at her left leg with suspicion. She breaks me when she reaches for my arms and drags her afflicted limb behind her.
Christ, I long for normality. I want her to run through paddling pools bursting with laughter, I want her to approach a slide without wariness in her eyes. Then I feel an overwhelming sense of guilt. Other kids don’t have the chances BB has, other kids don’t get better and here sits me bemoaning her lack of mobility.
I fret, I look at her legs and see one longer than the other. I look at her other limbs and panic about dislocations. I want to wrap her in cotton wool and keep her from harm.
She looks at the sky and sees no limitations; whereas my view is clouded by clouds.
I long for sunshine.
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