A year ago today, we made it official. The Diagnosis.
Why is it that I have this date stuck in my head for all eternity? It's not like I didn't know before that day what she had. But there is still something about it.
I remember the day and the feelings that came along with it all too clearly. I was hugely pregnant with Rascal, so to say that I was emotional is an understatement. There was a big conference table, and two sweet women sitting there giving me the results. They had this air about them...as though they knew how horrible it was to hear, and wished they didn't have to say it. They let me cry and handed me tissues. And they told me, in the end, that it wasn't the label that mattered so much. What mattered was that I knew early on and could get her the help she needed. They told me that they saw a lot of potential in Diva Girl, and that they had high hopes for her.
I wonder if they know how much I needed to hear that. I wonder how much of what they said shaped the decisions we've made for Diva Girl.
I remember feeling, that day, like it was the end of the world.
It wasn't.
My daughter talks to me now. She looks me in the eyes. She says "I love you" again! She is proving those ladies right, every day. She is growing before my very eyes, into such an amazing person. I feel so blessed to be the mother of such a spectacular little girl (even on days like today, when I get so tired of telling her to stop licking the window screen that I'm half tempted to throw her out of it).
My daughter has Childhood Disintegrative Disorder. She is so much more than that, or any other label.
She is perfectly imperfect.
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