Counting My Blessings

Saturday we were reunited with relatives across several states at the annual Wolf family reunion.  We enjoyed food, fun and fellowship (and even some football!) and reconnected with many we generally only see once a year.  The girls had a great time playing with their cousins and some of the “older” (like 11 and 14 years old) relatives while Drew was a good sport about being passed around as the newest (and last, as far as we can tell) Wolf baby of this generation.  The day was a success!

 As the reunion was starting to wind down, one of Nick's relatives asked about Ava and her progess.  (Forgive me for not being more specific; though I've been in the family for 7 years and “unofficially” for 4 years before that, I still don't remember all the family connections!)  I started with the general, but very accurate, “she's doing great!” I took her through our therapy schedule (now 4 hours a month) and what she's working on.   I told her about the Botox injections she receives in her heel cord every 7-9 months and we discussed her competitive nature which, truth be told, is more important than anything she will ever learn in therapy because, though we have been and continue to be blessed with countless amazing therapists and specialists, if she didn't want it for herself, our jobs would be a thousand times harder.

Still, these are things I discuss regularly, with family and friends and sometimes strangers.  The difficult part came with she started asking questions about how far Ava has come.  And right there, standing in the Ginn's living room, it all started coming back – the parts I don't talk about anymore because, quite frankly, most days I'd rather pretend it never happened.  I went back to the days of 11 hours of therapy Every Week and how the case manager for our insurance company kept asking me, begging me, to reduce her hours.  Not for Ava, but for me. She was continuously worried I wouldn't be able to keep up with her therapy schedule, properly care for two kids and find anytime for myself to maintain my sanity.  Looking back, I certainly understand her concern, but at the time there was no amount of asking or begging that was going to keep me from giving Ava every possible advantage.  And I'd do it all again if I had to.  As long as our insurance would cover it, we would continue at that pace until her physiatrist and therapist convinced me otherwise.  And PRAISE GOD for providing us with the amazing gift of unprecedented insurance coverage.  (Nick's company switched provider's at the beginning of the year and now we realize just how blessed we were to have the coverage when we needed it!  Never thought I would be praising God for insurance coverage, but I am!!)

I stood there in that living room, reliving the early days of Ava's diagnosis and counted my blessings through the tears which were flowing pretty steadily at this point.  It's not often that I let myself go back there, maybe it would be easier if I did so once in a while, but when I do it still overwhelms me.  The hospital stay, the prayers and support, the inability to completely comprehend it all.

Teaching A to walk again, about a week after being discharged from the hospital

Such a happy little girl!

A and C calling Daddy at work - A is wearing her first of many orthodics on her right foot.

For some reason, that Saturday conversation came back to me last night as I was searching the house for Ava's favorite dolls and one stuffed puppy dog (which, interestingly, she was given at the hospital) at 1:30 in the morning.  She had woken up from a bad dream and wanted her toys to help “keep her safe.”  Once I located both dolls and the puppy dog, and made the monsters disappear, we asked God to help her feel safe and have good dreams and back to sleep she went.  I laid back down in my own bed last night with a smile on my face and I counted the many, many blessings that God has given us...starting with my daughter whose unconditional love for life and for other people is an inspiration to me every day.