…Just shut up. Sirs. Nobody ever promised me a perfect life.

And then my own OB told me that yes, she had lost brain cells. And no, I would never see it. I grabbed that hope and ran with it, and, he was right. But it was months of waiting to be able to hold her at birth, years of waiting with uneasy breath to see if she would learn to read on time–she did, and how!–all that anguished not-knowing, gradually finally giving way to, the kid’s fine. Blind in one eye from a cataract, possibly from the pure oxygen. Surgery for that. We got off easy.

But you can see how that inner image of having a mask over my face and tied to the tank inside the wall, so that I could not so much as reach down to pick up anything that fell off the hospital bed to the floor, all the memories of helpless anguish, could come suddenly spilling out at seeing a girl close to my daughter’s age sitting there smoking. But in a different form: one that knew the outcome, for us in our situation, at least. So that what was left after the fear was gone, was, simply, love.

And somehow, for that girl’s sake, it came out exactly right.

And for what I think that moment did for her, I would gladly, as a mother, had someone offered me the tradeoff outright, have sacrificed six months of my personal mobility. Extra years of life to watch her grandchildren grow up in? You absolutely betcha.

Second, kudos to you for being caring and brave enough (in this litigious society) to say something to someone out of concern, rather than not saying anything and then regretting it later. That’s awesome!!

Jewels in your crown, sister!
Miss Knotty.