The year leading up to the date of her surgery seemed to take forever.
The year since has passed by in a flash. Or so it seems.
On Friday, July 3, we marked the one-year anniversary of my daughter's 7 1/2 hour spinal fusion surgery to correct her scoliosis. Her curve was 48 degrees on that day. Today it's, maybe, 10. Maybe less.
I know when I look at her, I see her tall and straight and beautiful. We kind of tease her about not being able to pick up her socks from the floor. It's a thing she never did, even as a small child. Her socks are always everywhere. She can't paint her toenails. Or do Yoga.
I know when I look at her, I no longer see the crooked hips or shoulders. I no longer see the imagined images of her back being sliced open. I no longer imagine her face as she wakes up from that surgery in excruciating pain, demanding, "What did you do to me?"
I do see a scar -- one that is really nice and straight thanks to her rockin' surgeon. She refuses to let me treat it with anything, though, because she "wants" her scar. She's proud of it.
All of my nightmares were so much worse than the reality. That's what I tell the other moms I meet or talk to whose child still faces this journey. "Your nightmares are worse than the reality."
That's not to say it was a piece of cake. It wasn't. It was hard. She was miserable for a while. She made me miserable for a while.
But now, it's all over.
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