Sometimes life can be the most difficult journey ever presented to an individual. You can wake up knowing what terrible tragedies lie ahead of you or what golden path you might stumble upon. When you are born you are considered a miracle. You take your first breath, see your first sight, and love unconditionally. So what do you call a miracle later diagnosed?
My daughter was born 5 years ago July 19th. I can still remember the day I laughed off the contractions to a little more than my pants being too tight. I was 17, scared, in labor, and didn't want to be. I couldn't help but think of how this little girl soon to be out in the world was about to turn my life upside down. How something so little was going to cause me so many problems. I couldn't help but to continuously ask myself, "Shauna, what have you done?".
As I was wheeled into my delivery room the fear set in. This was it. The end of my life as I knew it... was over. I was about to be a mom. I couldn't go out anymore. I couldn't do simple things anymore like sleep in on a Saturday, or any day for that matter. I remember having the epidural, pushing a couple of times, getting extremely dizzy and hearing her cry. I am not sure what caused me to pass out after that. It might have been the pain of delivering a 9lb 22 inch child, it might have been the pain from all of the needles and stitches, or it might have been the pain of knowing there was no going back. It was official, she had changed my life forever.
Over the next 5 years we have been through a lot. Her father and I separated shortly before and after her birth. I dated around, worked odd jobs and struggled to be a single mom at such a young age. We asked for help from friends, family, and churches just to survive at times. But I was doing the best I could. Until that day.
I was told by a family friend that something was not right with Caileigh's legs. So I took the warning and saw an orthopedic specialist. It was then my world came tumbling down. We were instantly told to drive across town to the neurologist. No reason or rhyme, just to go. So she and I, my little life changer drove across town to the neurologist who was waiting for us. Without a sound he nodded his head and walked out of the room. I was SHOCKED to say the least. What did that nod mean? Where did he go? Then he returned. I was not sure if it had been seconds or minutes he was gone but it felt like days. He came in with a handful of documents. He wanted blood samples and urine samples and DNA tests run. He sat down with one hand on my shoulder and said, "Mom, we have a problem. She appears to have some form of muscular dystrophy."
It was as if someone had pulled my lungs out, my ears started to buzz, and my heart attempted to pump out of my chest. What was this man saying and was he nuts? He was confused. Not my Caileigh. Not my little life changer. He must have confused me with another mom. But he sat there for a moment as tears filled my eyes. Then he left the room. I stared at her playing with her blocks. As if nothing were wrong. Life in her eyes was great! Life in my eyes was over.
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