Visions Debunked

Feeling a little nostalgic here, as Samantha's 4th birthday approaches, so please bear with me...

Roughly 4 ½ years ago, while I was pregnant, Steve and I went up to a Philly suburb to visit some friends. We hadn’t been up there in many years, after having lived there for a while, and things had changed a bit. As we sat in the local neighborhood hangout bar eating dinner, one of the barmen, who had been there for a very long time, sat at a table near us, having dinner with his 8 or 9 year old daughter who hadn’t existed when we had last visited. I couldn’t help staring, as the dynamic between the two of them was so captivating. Here was a beautiful little girl wearing a soccer uniform after having obviously just finished a game, her hair in two long braids down her back. They were engrossed in conversation. I couldn’t wait to have the same sort of moments with my daughter, and fantasized about what she would be like at that age.

When Samantha was born and we received the diagnosis, that moment was one of the things I mourned almost immediately. Sounds funny that that would have popped into my mind at that time, but it goes to show what an impression it made on me. It had become almost mythical, and I began to think that it would remain a myth.

Another vision that I felt would forever be fantasy was of being able to travel with Sammi, and to see her excited at the things we were seeing, the places we were going. I pictured myself standing in London’s Tate Gallery, a child-sized adult holding onto my shirttail, staring at the floor, no feelings one way or another about the beauty we were standing before.

Now here we are, preparing to take our second overseas vacation with Samantha. While she is not even 4 years old yet, I already see how my preconceptions have been destroyed, crushed, decimated, gone forever. Happily. My little girl, with her almost backside-length hair, often styled into two braids ala the little girl of my dreams, is turning out to be pretty good with a soccer ball. And she’s becoming a heck of a conversationalist. I can imagine her next week, in the cobbled streets of ancient York, saying, “Oh, pretty church!” and meaning it. She already talks about going to “Iglid” on an airplane to visit Nana. I do understand that a greater appreciation will come later, as she gets older, but the foundation has been set. She has already shattered the panic-filled myths in my head from four years ago.

Not the first, not the last. I know I’ve mentioned some of this before, and will probably have many more posts about this over the upcoming years as Sammi grows, learns and continues to amaze me.