What I wish I had known

For my first blog post for @cccwrite, I'm going to get intensely personal....

Dear Kim from the past,

I know that you worry. A lot. About everything.  You will be fine.

If I could go back and actually tell my former self these comforting words, I'm not sure I would.  The journey, the process, the good things, the painful things- they all make us who we are today, right?

Still, it would be temping to at least tell myself that things will be OK, especially during the most difficult of times.  

I have been really lucky in my life; I have had very few tragic or traumatic events; However, I have been in a constant state of worry since I was 36 weeks pregnant with my daughter (late June, 2015).  My stomach was measuring small, so I had an ultrasound.  Something was wrong.

Since that day, I have worried about my Ava.  She was born July 11, 2015 and has since been diagnosed with microcephaly and spastic quadriplegic cerebral palsy.  To this day, no one can tell me why this happened. 

If I could go back to that day of the ultrasound, I would say, "This is going to be the hardest job you'll ever have.  There will be days you won't want to get out of bed, and there will be days when the joy overwhelms you to the point of tears.  Oh- and everything really will be just fine.  Because Ava will make life better than you ever thought it could be."

Even with all of the stress surrounding Ava’s birth, her doctors actually deemed her as “perfectly fine” during her first four months.  

During this time, I was interviewing for the full time position at San Diego Mesa College that I have now.  This is the job I have always wanted, so a lot was on the line.  

I also knew that even though she was my first child, Ava wasn’t developing the way she should be, in spite of the doctors’ reassurance.  So, as I was interviewing, I was also pushing doctors for an MRI.

They agreed.  She got the MRI.  We waited.

 We got the results, and I still remember that day vividly. The doctor told us that she may never walk, or talk, or live independently.  On that same day, two hours later I got the call from the district: You have been offered the position.

Overwhelming grief about my daughter.  Relief and joy that I got the job that I have been working toward for 7 years.

Dear Kim, you will be fine.  Ava still may never walk, or talk, or live independently, but what a clever, kind, brave little girl she will be.  What a personality she will have.  What a great partnership you will have with Rob as two parents navigating their way through these waters.  She will be so loved.

You will be able to take her to therapy appointments, doctors’ appointments, and you will also experience all of the best parts of parenting.  You will go to the zoo, and you will go camping, and she will squeal with joy when the dogs act silly.

Oh, and you will absolutely thrive as an English Professor at Mesa.  You love teaching.  And you’re good at it.

You love what you do, and you will get to do it with an amazing daughter who will make you beam with pride.

Dear Kim, you will still always worry, and that’s ok.  But you will be fine because life is good.  Life is hard, but life is also so so good.

#CCCWrite