Last night as Lola was being put down to bed, she began to reach out her hand. Part of our nightly ritual is to gently rub Lola’s hand as it helps to relax her. Usually we just do this because we know it comforts her, but last night she seemed so tired therefore I simply made sure she had her pacifier and her seahorse, I kissed her good night and I told her I loved her.
Cognitive: of, relating to, being, or involving conscious intellectual activity (as thinking, reasoning, or remembering)
But last night she kept fussing and she was noticeably putting her hand in the air as if she was waiting for me to rub it for her. Many times Lola will hit her head when she is overly stimulated and tired. Dr. Luna says this is a form of self-soothing given her vision impairment. Yet she wasn’t doing this last night, she simply kept raising her hand in the air as she fussed. At first I didn’t get it, so I just put back in her pacifier and said good night again. Then it dawned on me. Her hand is obviously in the air, she won’t go to sleep, I haven’t rubbed her hand yet. Wow. My little girl knew what she was looking for. . .the comfort she receives when I rub her hand. She was cognitive of this nightly routine, so there I sat rubbing Lola’s hands until she drifted off into dreamland. Comforting her in a way that she has grown accustomed to. It’s amazing and remarkable that it took that one tiny gesture for me to get my wits about me.
Last night I decided to stop treating Lola’s diagnosis as a death sentence.
Last night I took my first deep breath in days.
Last night I began to accept this new challenge in our lives.
Last night I affirmed that my little girl will be that miracle case.
Last night I asked for the strength to be the best Mama to Lola.
Last night I grieved, but today I move forward.