When Em turned two, I said, “I’d give a limb to have her ask for something.”
When Em was three, I said, “If only she could tell me what was wrong.”
When Em was four, I said, “If only she was able to understand.”
When Em was five, I said, “If only she would sleep through the night.”
When Em was six, I said, “If only she would learn to use the bathroom during the night too.”
When Em was seven, I said, “If only I understood what she was thinking.”
When Em was eight, I said, “I just want her to be safe.”
When Em was nine, I said, “I want her to have choices in her life.”
When Em was ten, I said, “I think I’m beginning to understand.”
When Em turned eleven, I said, “Thank you. Just thank you.”
Things continue to change. We adjust. I continue to change and my life gets bigger and fuller. Em continues to change and her life gets bigger and fuller. I didn’t fully appreciate or understand this when Em was first diagnosed, but I do now.
Everything changes. I’m learning to embrace it.