My mom and I are currently writing a book about my story from both of our point of views. Its a work in progress since my story is intense and long, but we thought it would be a good idea to share our preface with you! We will share Chapter 1 next week, so be on the lookout. We hope you enjoy, and please let us know what you think in the comments.
They could have killed my daughter…. a slow, agonizing death. I need to put that out there. Though this is not what our story is about, the scar we bear as a result is there nonetheless. Only visible to those who search for it. Isn’t that how it always is? We are more aware of our imperfections than others are? Even after healing is done, there is a scar to remind us of where we were.
This is a story of faith, strength, and perseverance. This is a story of a beautiful soul fighting to live a normal life despite obstacles that present themselves again and again. A life trying to continue, uninterrupted. In reflection, I know the doctors from so long ago didn’t intentionally hurt my daughter. In fact, the doctors at fault may not even know what harm they caused. Actually, I don’t know that they had a choice in the matter. Sometimes answered prayers come through the journey itself, not the desired results. Sometimes God answers prayers that you didn’t even know you needed to be praying for. A path is set before our journey even begins. Who are we to question the direction written by the mapmaker Himself?
If I had a dollar for every time someone asked me what happened to my neck, I would be swimming in money. I developed a very practiced response to this question. It started not to phase me anymore. Sometimes I didn’t feel like a person. It seemed like people were talking to my scars. Staring at the bright pink slits going up and down my neck. I just wanted to scream “MY EYES ARE UP HERE!”
I am comfortable with them now. I see them as battle scars, or tattoos that tell a story. My story. It didn’t used to be that way, though. I fought with the idea that I wasn’t beautiful anymore. That no one would love me because they would be embarrassed to be seen with me or call me theirs. I would look in the hospital mirror and cry. This is my story about how I overcame this awful disease. How God healed me when I had no hope at all. This is how I became who I am today.