So today, well yesterday now (31st May 2019), I was told that my daughter will never walk. How do you receive that blow? Like what is the next response? I look down at my beautiful girl Zariah, who is having the time of her life playing with these funnily shaped building blocks, and she has no clue. She’s completely oblivious, whilst her physiotherapist is explaining to me that she won’t be able to do any of the things you wish for your child. I don’t even know how to feel.
This is the first time I’ve actually said it since the appointment. I haven’t told my mum, my aunts, her dad, or my boyfriend (yes, they’re two different people). I don’t even think I’ve properly digested it. When the lady told me, I played it cool as hell, expression was blank and I just went on like I was expecting it. I definitely wasn’t, but I wanted to prepare for the worst cos I’ve been in that position before where you’re overly hopeful, and believe me, the let-down is e p i c. I didn’t want to expose myself to heartbreak or disappointment if the results weren’t what I was hoping for, but that’s exactly what’s happened and that’s exactly how I feel right now. Heartbroken. My chest is hurting. My spirit literally feels broken and I feel alone. You ever been surrounded by such a great support system but feel completely and utterly alone? Deadass by myself, crying in bed. It’s 3.17 in the morning and my daughter is asleep beside me, just being perfect. I even feel selfish sitting here talking about how I feel, when my daughter is the one with the life-limiting condition. She struggles everyday to do things that everyone else wouldn’t even think twice about. How is that fair? My daughter is suffering life long consequences as a result of someone else’s mistake. I try to stay faithful and I pray everyday, but why would God do that to her? To me?
My daughter is 2 years, 4 months and 4 days old (I legit just googled that). She is a GORGEOUS soul, she’s happy and she’s mine. She’s my best friend, my motivator, my literal heartbeat and my guardian angel. If you know what kind of a life I was living before her.. I was just lost, and she’s just given me purpose. I’m a new person thanks to her. I probably should have done introductions beforehand, but honestly I just started writing this because I needed an outlet. I haven’t told my mum about today’s appointment because I just don’t think I want to hear the typical Nigerian/African response just brushing the physio’s comments off. “She’s fine, you just need to pray more, open holy water, these people don’t know what they’re saying – she will walk”. I know my mum doesn’t mean to at all, but when she gives advice, she just makes me feel like I’m not doing enough. It’s hard as it is, I don’t want to feel like I’m failing.
Ooo, & just like that, the tears are back.
My daughter has cerebral palsy, as a result of mistakes made by medical professionals at birth, and honestly, I think that makes it even harder to digest. If things were done properly, would I even be here? Life would just be so different, Zariah would be active, and included in things, and speaking and achieving Lord knows what else. But she’s not. She’s being kicked out of a nursery she has been at since 4 months, because they “can’t cater for her anymore” and she’s excluded from practically every activity that her peers are doing because of her physical limitations. Oh no mate. Not my child. She will be accepted, loved, valued and nurtured by force by bloody fire. I think I’ve just gone over about 8 moods in the past 20 seconds, so I think that’s my cue to hit the hay, but this writing thing was therapeutic. I doubt anyone is gonna read this, especially cos I probably won’t share it, but if you are, thanks for reading and goodnight x