This girl is the picture of resilience, the epitome of strength, and the hardest working kid I know.
She has overcome obstacle after obstacle to get where she is today.
When our medical team worried about her breathing on her own after birth, she got off the ventilator within 3 days. My fierce little 4 pound newborn was always a fighter.
It’s IEP time again for us.
I sit at home with the re-evaluation report in front of me, but I can’t bring myself to read it. The thick pile of crisp pages waits for me, untouched.
But I am hesitant.
I am hesitant to read all the ways that my child is different.
I am hesitant to be reminded that she is not keeping up with her same-age peers.
The images and stories coming out of Ukraine are heart-breaking.
These devastating scenes of war are hitting us hard, and I think it is because we realize something important.
We are not special.
We are not different.
These families, these babies and these homes we are seeing could be ours. These terrified civilians we watch being interviewed could be us.
“Come here! I have a message for you,” my 6-year-old son called to me from the kitchen this morning as I was hurrying to get things ready for school.
I told him to wait. I was busy trying not to miss the bus, but I saw his smile and had to go see.
On the kitchen floor spelled out in magnetic letters was this word. Love. And, boy, did I need to see that at that moment.