I haven’t cried much in the last few weeks. I think it’s the mama bear in me–I feel fierce. People are being so thoughtful and sending me emails, messages, and blog posts, and one thing seems common–people are devastated by this diagnosis. There is currently no cure. But my devastation has been secondary to my action.
Before Ada’s pediatrician told me she had type 1, I thought there was maybe a 5% chance that was it; so when he told me I wasn’t completely surprised, although I had been hoping for something much less severe. I politely thanked him, asked for directions to the ER, and kept on a happy face for Miss Ada. I kept that face for about 12 hours before my husband and I were alone, then I cried for about 5 minutes. But I pulled myself back together to quickly get back to Ada. I had a couple more moments over the following days where I stepped into the bathroom and had to pull it together, but that’s it. No weeping, no mourning, just action. I’ve turned into my mother–the most powerful force in my life. I always saw her as a fortress of strength and stability. Now it is my turn, and I’m doing it. I am doing what needs to be done without letting my fear get in the way. I am being a protective mama bear ready to strike anyone and anything that comes toward my cub.
I feel purposeful; I feel a new wind driving me to work harder and do better. I feel strong; I feel far more capable than I did a few weeks ago although I have seemingly lost control over Ada’s body. I feel blessed; I feel that God has set up my life to emotionally, physically, and materially prepare me for this moment. I may lose it at anytime, but I may not. I may stay strong, but even if I begin to grieve the loss of my daughter’s health, I will still be strong. Strength comes in many forms and in this case it is about strong endurance rather than a quick burst of strength. Every day is training for the next. We will keep going, never giving up. Never giving in.