If you’ve followed along since the beginning, you know the significance of these numbers.
In past years, Katherine’s birthdays have been bittersweet, especially her third birthday.
Unbeknownst to me when I ordered it, this birthday crown is clever and cost efficient. Instead of buying a new one every year, I can use the same one and just add a new number…you get the idea. Unfortunately, this little crown brought so many tears. Will she get to use every number? Please let her use all of these numbers.
Looking back, we realize that every prior birthday has greeted us with worries. By her first birthday, we knew something was wrong; our expectation that she would walk prior to turning one proved untrue and her motor development had stalled. Our nagging worry at one was a gut wrenching terror by two; she still was not walking. On her third birthday, we were living under a death sentence and the day was a bittersweet reminder that we probably had few such occasions left…Today, we have a new – an accurate – diagnosis, NUBPL, Mitochondrial Complex 1, and a new hope. This is a happy day and one of many more to come.
As I carefully placed those five pink and purple candles on top of her cake, a sense of relief washed over me. The haunting statistic that “30% of children with rare and genetic diseases will not live to see their fifth birthday” is now behind us. Yes, there are many struggles ahead, but it’s an indescribable moment to see those happy and beautiful sparkling eyes glowing in the light of five birthday candles.
Soon after Katherine’s (mis) diagnosis in 2013, I wrote the following:
I do not know what tomorrow brings. None of us do. I believe in science, prayers, hard work, positive thought, and the healing power of love. Each day I share my photographs with friends and family and tell them a story that does not always require words, and that sometimes cannot be expressed with them. It is a story of faith, hope, love, and determination. As we continue ahead on our journey toward a diagnosis, I see a brave and thriving girl who is progressing, not regressing. I see a happy and joyful child who meets every obstacle or challenge with the biggest smile and the most positive attitude. I see a future with many more photographs of accomplishments, milestones, and laughter. In all of my pictures, I see faith, hope and love. Above all, I see an abundance of love.
I have cried many tears in the last three years from witnessing the physical decline and death of numerous children with rare diseases we’ve met through social media. Instead of planning birthday party celebrations and school graduations, I have watched families plan funerals and suffer more than any human ever should.
As we continue ahead beyond this fifth birthday milestone, my own words lead me into the next chapter:
The past few years have been excruciatingly painful and tough, but I have learned a very valuable lesson: You never know what the next second of your life will bring. My daughter guides me daily and reminds me that each moment is precious. Each day is a gift. She has taught me the significance of the quote, “We do not remember days, we remember moments.” I have learned to enjoy and live in the present because it truly is the only moment that matters.