There is a new conversation that has become a constant in our lives thanks to Lou Gehrig's disease.
My Mariah calls me from her dads when her heart is heavy and fear tricks her mind. Usually after several days with him watching his quality of life slip, reality reminds her daily that her daddy is going to die.
A tone in her voice over the phone is my prompting to ask her how she is doing ... "Mommy, I'm feeling afraid again."
I have a small arsenal of words to say to convince her she will not get Lou Gehrig's someday. F.E.A.R. is false evidence appearing real. I remind her that she has the DNA of women on both sides of her family that live long, healthy lives. I remind her that her sister was born premature with RSV, the smallest and the sickest in neonatal, she was supposed to die.
Told at Brooke's birth that she was not going to live, to prepare my heart, I was not allowed to hold her until the third day after she was born. I couldn't even smell her from her incubator world with IV's and breathing tubes. My first contact with her was when she was crying, I put my hands through the holes of the incubator and captured her tear on my finger and tasted it.
For nine days I sat beside her incubator with stat teams from Children's Hospital racing over to save her. Down to 4 lbs. 9 oz. and so sick, she was strong. She lived when she wasn't supposed to.
I remind Mariah that she is mine. My DNA.
Convincing her reality is she is young, healthy and strong with a full life ahead of her.
FEAR will trick our minds, but I am ready to battle its every attack on my daughter.
