Let me give you some quick back story into Lydia Cash. She loves to be pretty. She loves pretty dresses. Pretty lips. Pretty purses. And she loves to be TOLD she's pretty.
Pin sites are not pretty.
Given the information I've given you about both the pin sites and Lydia , I am sure you can agree that she was rightly devastated once she looked at the pin sites for the first time. She refused to have them uncovered. She refused to look at them. And if you wanted to/needed to look at them, she must give you permission. It's her body, so her requests weren't absurd. We respected that she wanted them covered and got a pink fixator cover for her to wear. Which she did. All. The. Time.
Enough with the "this process stinks and I can't believe you are doing this to your kid" part of the story. Let me tell you the bestest part.
But first, I have to tell you about how I can be a horrible person.
After the hospital part, we stayed at the Quantum House for a few days. It's like the local Ronald McDonald House. 20 families all living on top of one another, sharing a kitchen and common spaces during emotionally trying times. (So give me a break). I was in the kitchen having a conversation with a lady from Germany whose family I had grown fond of over the last few days. We were talking about pins, muscles, nerves, yadda yadda. There is a third person - a grandma - who is eves dropping into our conversation. She had a grandson who was seeing the Dr. for a consult and was just being introduced to this life that so many families call normal now. Eves dropping in this context is 100% completely normal. Long story short, Grandma starts crying. In the middle of the kitchen. In front of my daughter. In front of me.
I basically wanted to tell Grandma - "Hey, I'm barely keeping my sh*t together right now, so I need you to buck up. Take it back to your room. Go break down with someone who can help you. But me? I've got nothing to give right now." I try to be comforting to her. I really do.
But, I can only imagine the look on my face. In this moment I was completely judging Grandma for imposing her emotions into my life.
Meanwhile, my daughter amateurishly maneuvers her wheelchair around me parks it in front of Grandma. As Grandma is crying in the corner of the communal kitchen, Lydia looks up to her and says, "It doesn't hurt. It doesn't hurt. Here. Look." and she opens her fixator cover for Grandma to see.
Before that moment, Lydia hadn't even seen her own pins. She hid them under sheets, blankets, and covers. But in that moment, she saw a lady's grief and put her own sadness aside.
Before that moment, I had no grace. And where I had no grace, this child had kindness. and gentleness.
I pray that she always have the most grace. The most gentleness. The most kindness. I pray that she is always better than me. And I pray that she realize that these are the qualities that make her beautiful.