Unique

For three years Jeff and I have been traveling a road with Siahna that's hard to describe.  Sometimes this road is bumpy with a new twist around every turn.  Sometimes it seems to go on forever with no change in scenery.  More often than not, this road has been lonely.

This week I had coffee with a friend who is going through a divorce.  She was telling me how five years ago when she and her husband had separated because of the same thing that finally led to their divorce, she had gone to a group therapy session where she shared her story with other women going through a similar situation.

When her story was over, a woman leaned over and said, "Your story isn't all that unique, you know."  Maybe not when you're sitting in a therapy session of similar stories but her story was unique to her.

Unique - being the only one of its kind; unlike anything else.

After leaving coffee with this friend, my heart ached because I often wish more than anything that we did not have a unique story.  How I wish Dr.'s and therapists didn't scratch their heads and say, "We've never seen another child like this.  We're not sure how to help or what direction to take or what is causing the delays."  How I long to have a group of parents to turn to for support and ask what they did, what helped, how they got through it (if you ever really get through it).

And yet, I don't.  I'm afraid that if I meet other parents standing in our shoes, my hope for Siahna will be diminished.  I'm afraid that if I meet an older child like her but not functioning on their own that I will stop believing that Siahna will be healed.  

All of us have an unique story.  I would like to share where I am on our journey.  Not for you.  Not because I want people to feel sorry for me.  I need to share because I need to see how far we have come.