It was the best of times, it was the worst of times...A day when the emotions ran the complete gamut. From extreme pride (a significant rite of passage in our society, obtaining your learner's permit) to extreme fear (a doctor fearing your child has a brain tumor). It's a day just like our wedding day, the birth of 4 children, the Christmas we almost lost Parker, that will be burned into my mind forever.
This child is a stellar student (and she'll have to be to accomplish all that God has called her to). A visual problem never hit my radar. Ever. She taught herself to read at 3 years old. No credit to me. She just did it. She reads like a fiend. I did the usual homeschool thing and took her to the eye doctor in Kindergarten. Fine, no problems.
But after her struggle with the eye test at the DMV, I was shocked. When our eye doctor suspected a brain tumor, called our pediatrician and sent us directly to the ER, well there just aren't words for those feelings. They sent us home with no answers, but they did know that Katelyn had almost no peripheral vision on her right side. We had a big medical term: Hemonymous Hemiopsia, but no rhyme or reason or idea of what it all really meant. My medical background did not serve me well here. It was one of those times ignorance would have been bliss. I went over and over what I could have missed and wondered if they were missing a brain tumor. What if, what if, what if ad nauseum...
After a gazillion phone calls to get appointments with just the right doctor. We got the news. A stroke, probably in utero or shortly after birth. In hind sight, I feel bad for the doctor who gave us the news. The word stroke is never a word you expect to hear in a sentance talking about your child. We must have looked like he slapped us with a 2x4. I really couldn't come up with an intelligent question (boy that was new for me, I've always got questions for doctors). We left the office and headed across the street to a pizza joint. It was all I could do to keep my crap together (and I didn't do it all that well). Somehow, this had to be my fault. Did I take a tylenol when I shouldn't have? Was her beautiful, planned homebirth a big fat mistake? I never ate food as heavy as that day in the pizza joint.
I'm forever grateful for our church family and our wonderful pastor. www.touchandchange.com
He put it in perspective for me. Katelyn is not and never will be "ours". God has a plan for her life and though we are her earthly custodians for a very short time, we are on a need to know basis with God. And He proved Himself faithful to us once again. When she was in danger (for her, driving a car would be a huge danger!) He made sure we had the necessary info at the perfect time. He has a plan for her and cares for her in a way our earthly and human hearts can't even really comprehend.
Here's the thing that kills me most. This kid worked hard to pass that test. She wanted so badly to drive just like any other kid her age. Did her whole life fall apart? Nope. I saw her shed a few tears, but you want to know why? Because she wanted to lift the burden of some of my chauffeuring duties and was disappointed she wouldn't be able to. Maybe she grieves in private. She's always been kind of private with her feelings. Maybe we'll grieve all over again when ALL her friends and her younger brother have their licenses. I don't know.
I do know that she's one of the coolest/best kids I know. I was proud for her to take the city bus all by herself and be able to have a modicum of independence. I'm thankful for the grace under fire that God has given her. Will this be a stumbling block to her dreams/goals/plans for the future? No. I've got way too much faith in this child to believe that for a second. If you know her, you know just how cool of a kid she is.
By the way, we went back to that dreaded pizza joint, just her and I and ate a delicious meal after everything had settled down a bit. It felt good to me to do that.
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