It’s too early for a diagnosis officially for our Bitsy, but we know.
We’ve been here before with Buzz, but this time we aren’t afraid or ashamed.
We’ve learned that these two precious girls do not flow with the grain of what is “normal;” they dig in and make a mark. Piercing deep and experiencing life, leaving a few splinters that wound the heart of their parents.
Wounds of wishing others saw their unique view of life.
Wounds of desiring life to be a little kinder to them.
Sitting last night beside Bitsy’s bed while she flapped her hands, rocking back and forth into the wall, I wept. Not out of pity for her, nor the need to change her. I wept because I understood that I will never understand. I will make accommodations for her when the lights are too bright, when noises are too loud, when emotions are jumbled, when a certain texture frightens her and when her words can’t be understood.
Yet, I can’t understand with the mind that I was given. I can’t process life the way that they do.
All that I can do is mother and thankfully, that’s all they need from me.
As they pierce deep into the grain of life, they teach me.
They better me.
They have pierced my heart in a way that I would never want repaired. A nail of difference.