Blind

Two years ago, as the end of January approached I was excited. Georgia was almost that magical age of four months where she'd be able to jump around in her jolly jumper and play in her exersaucer. Granted, I had already noticed that she was quite weak but I kept hoping that as February 6th arrived, the exact date that she'd be four months I could place her in that exersaucer and she would play happily.

The memory of Georgia in that exersaucer will haunt me forever. At some point, I did place her in it and of course, she flopped over like a rag doll. The alarm bells were ringing like sirens at that point and I started to panic. When I think about this time it's still hard for me not to feel angry. How could I have been so blind? How did I not see that a hideous disease was ravaging my child's body? Was I stupid?

Oh sure, I can still come up with a dozen excuses. I was busy with three kids under the age of five. Georgia had had a string of bad colds and wasn't feeling well. There was no history of anything in our family. Every child develops differently etc. The truth is however that I was totally and completely blind.

Now, I did love Georgia fiercely. I loved her from the moment that I knew I was carrying her. I felt like she was my gift, my third and most precious child. My lucky number 3. She would complete our family. She was born at home. She was perfect and beautiful. She slept like a champ! In fact, when she was only a couple weeks old I remember telling a stranger that I had never been so impatient to see my baby smile. I just wanted her to feel how much we all loved her. I wanted her to be happy.

Even though she was calm, I held Georgia more than the others. I just always wanted to have her close to me. All of my decisions regarding Georgia's care were out of love (Thank you Devon for reminding me of this). I took her to the hospital out of love and I brought her home because I loved her. I sang to her, rocked her, changed her and in the end held her because I loved her. I needed her to know even in her last moments here on earth that she was loved.

The more that I reflect, the more that I learn about myself and the more I accept. For whatever reason I wasn't meant to see SMA until I did. Even when I look back at pictures I don't see SMA. I only see Georgia. When I look at other children with the same condition I still don't see SMA. I don't see the masks and the equipment. I see only beauty and perfection.

I have come to a new understanding about myself and my life with Georgia. Of course I was blind. I was blinded by love! A love so strong and pure that SMA and even death cannot touch.

Love to you all,

Kristen