Dear Me

Guest post by Lisa of Welcome to Elijahland.



Dear Lisa,

It's going to be all right.

Yes, my dear, some of your fears will come true. The diagnosis you're so afraid of right now - cerebral palsy - will be a part of your life, as will a handful of others...hypoxic-ischemic encephalopathy, microcephaly, cortical visual impairment, pervasive developmental disorder, gastroparesis, and gastro esphophageal reflux disease.

And you know what? None of it really matters. Sure, you've just gone through a life-altering event. No one in your family will ever be the same. But, your life isn't defined by diagnoses. It's defined by the love you have for one another and the time you spend together. It's defined by dance parties in the living room.

If you could see yourself on a night three and a half years from now, I think you'd realize that you have an amazing life and that things are more than all right.



On this particular night, you've just discovered that your son likes to dance to top 40 music. You, your husband, and your precious Elijah are pounding your feet around the living room, clapping your hands, and squealing with joy. Tears wet your cheeks from laughing so hard. Joy fills the air intermixed with the beat of the music.

And even in the midst of all of this, during those moments where you are able to sit down on the chocolate brown couch and watch your two favorite men, you will think of the younger version of yourself. You will remember sitting on this very couch after bringing Elijah home from the hospital. You will think, "If only she could see me now. I think she'd know that it's going to be all right."

You'll be brought back to the present at the sight of your husband scooping up Elijah from the floor and spinning around. Squeals of delight and laughter. All three of us, our tummies hurting from our joy. Your life, Lisa, is a delicate mixture of love and grief and pain and joy. It's a beautiful dance.

Your breath is fast and labored, but slowly you put your feet back on the floor again. And you dance to music with questionable lyrics and laugh.

It's going to be alright, Lisa. It really, really is.

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If you could write a letter to your younger self, would you?