Days strung together with so many questions. Around town, the interesting (that’s a word for it) evaluation, a specialist.

What are those things on her head? What syndrome does she have? What is Treacher Collins? Why emergency c section? Did you know when you were pregnant? Is she talking? How many words? No words? How many sounds? Is she walking? No? Are you worried? What muscles on the eye did they move? Did anyone tell you to patch the eye? Did anyone tell you she may need glasses? Can you wait another hour? Are you free for another evaluation in 2 weeks?
She’s actually doing so well, are you okay with only a few therapy sessions a month?

Ummmm… No… I am NOT.

If you couldn’t tell… tonight I snapped. And cried in bed to Bo, wearing old leggings, two different socks and with dirty hair. I might have unraveled a bit this week and it’s only Tuesday.

I moved, I know. I signed up to start the process over. BUT… It still hurts… the revisiting. It stings. I can’t articulate clearly to husband why. It just all sucks some days. Why her?!?! I mean… That question still pops in my head. Is that normal? I am guessing yes, actually.

Some nights I need to wallow. I think that’s okay. We have these rotten feelings some nights so in the morning when our littles hug our necks and give us slobbery kisses- we can start over. Fresh day, more love. Leaving the emotional freak out behind… new strength to soldier on.

Night y’all,


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