Four years ago was the day we realized Colby had a stroke. There are parts of me that still haven’t accepted that. Then there are the parts that have already forgotten what it was like before this was our normal.
Before our life was filled with physical therapy and occupational therapy, before I had doctors appointments scheduled every two to three months, before I knew that you could use Botox for something other than wrinkles on your forehead. Before we had suction machines, oxygen concentrators, walkers and enough medical equipment to stock a hospital room in our home.
Before I found out what a strong spirit our little man has. Before I realized how amazing my kids are, not that I didn’t think they were amazing I just didn’t know HOW amazing they are. Before I knew what it was possible to make it through without giving up even on days you want to. Before I knew what a single step or word meant. Before I saw miracles in the small every day things.
Colby is a fighter. His body might not work the way he wants it to. He might get frustrated but he never gives up. Ever. Yesterday he was in his walker and he wanted to stop so bad. I asked him to give me two more steps. He tried to make me think he was going to give up. He cried for a few minutes and then looked at me out of the corner of his eye, pulled himself together and gave me those two steps. He might try to make me think he’s ready to give up but he never does. He has more fight in him than anyone I’ve ever met.
The anniversary of Colby’s stroke will always be a bitter-sweet day for me. It’s the day he chose to live but it’s also the day he lost most of the abilities we take for granted. Today is the day I remind myself of how lucky our entire family is. I get to hold my little man a little closer today. Kiss him a few more times and tell him how much I love him over and over again. Today is the day I will remind his sisters how lucky we all are to be together. Today we celebrate life.
{ 8 comments… read them below or add one }
Happy Anniversary! So glad he is doing so well, he sure is a sweaty!!
Beautiful sentiments as always.
Hugs to you and your sweet Colby.
Happy Anniversary!
God bless and keep you all.
Wishing you all a beautiful day today and every day….
Celebrating life – a worthy endeavor. Bless you.
HUGS to you and your family. Stroke anniversaries are not fun, but they show us where we were and how far we have come.
The details will always be fresh and the date will always stick out, but hope is never gone even though it may seem hard to find at times.
The t-shirt he’s wearing in that photo is one that one of my boys has (my five year old, Andrew)
Anyway, I remember back to when it was 4 years after Audriana’s brain injury. It was a bittersweet anniversary. I remember being in a kind of fog that day, because I knew only so well that I had now had her for exactly the same amount of time each way – before the brain injury, and after the brain injury. She had just turned four years old when we were in our car accident and the old her disappeared forever. And then we had four years after the accident where we had the new her, the brain injured her, the her that could no longer do all that she used to be able to do as a one year old, two year old, three year old…. It was a hard anniversary for me. I felt that I was losing memory of the old her, and I knew that very soon I will have had her longer as a brain injured child than as the un-brain injured child. And it scared me. I didn’t want to forget the old her. I missed the old her so much. Back when the accident happened, in the first few weeks and months, I remember thinking that when 4 years pass she will be back to normal. That wasn’t the case, and I finally realized that on her 8th birthday. It took me quite a long time to fall into that place of acceptance. She’s 18 now, and time has helped. But I still get stab of pain whenever I remember back to the daughter that I had before the brain injury. I guess I always will. What helps me through those draining emotions is the fact that I still have a daughter to hug, to love, to train and to guide, and enjoy, to laugh with…. I could go on and on. I am so blessed that I still have her here with me. There are so many mothers who have had to bury a child. My grief cannot ever compare to theirs, and I try very hard to remember that.
Your Colby is a fighter. My heart goes out to you, though, because I know how very hard it is to have a hurt child. It’s not easy, but as you of course know there are blessings to be found in it. Many. We just have to push the grief aside enough to be able to recognize them. And therein lies the challenge. At least for me, that was very hard. Sometimes it still is. Ahhh, a mother’s heart. We only want for our children to be happy and healthy. When one or both of those things are taken away, a part of our heart dies….until they are better again. If they are never fully better again, a part of our heart always lives in a gray cloud. At least that’s how I can best describe my own heart. I can be happy in life, I can celebrate everything and have joy…but because Audriana will always be brain injured, there will always be a gray cloud following me around…reminding me that all in my life is not quite perfect, and never will be again. And that is my life. This is my walk in life. It is what it is, you know? It’s up to me what I do with it. I can let the grief take me under…or I can rise above the grief and learn to be happy despite of it. I choose not to let the grief take me under. That is what I choose. Those around me benefit from my choice. Audriana benefits from my choice, my husband and my others kids do, too. It’s a good choice
You and your sweet Colby are in my prayers! Keep on being a great mama to him. You’re doing a wonderful job.
Katrina
They All Call Me Mom
Thank you so much for sharing that! I completely understand. I can remember the precise moment when the hole in my heart was put there. I took Colby to a cranial sacral therapy conference for pediatric workers once. They needed kids who needed extensive work done to train the new therapists. Anyway one of the three who were working on Colby as I held him suddenly asked me if it was okay if she included me in the session. I agreed and she gasped as she placed her hand on my back over where my heart is. She had just been touching my shoulder and working on Colby but when she moved down she actually gasped and said \”I don\’t think I\’ve ever met anyone before with such a big hole in their heart. This really changed who you are!\” I couldn\’t explain the feeling that I\’d had there ever since we found out about the stroke and as soon as she said it was like a light bulb moment. I remember thinking \”Oh that\’s what that is. A hole in my heart. Makes sense.\” Anyway mine isn\’t gray so much as a dark black hole that I can feel and I know that if I let it, it would consume me so I tuck it away and ignore it but you are right. It\’s always there. I don\’t know that I can get rid of it but I can keep it at bay and so just like you that\’s the choice I make every day! Anyway, thank you so much for stopping by and sharing your story. It\’s nice to know that there are others out there who can identify with the emotions that come from having a pre brain damaged child and a post brain damaged child. Not many people can understand that!