Obviously, I lived through Christmas and thankfully have lived through 19 more of them. There were days I wasn't sure though, especially pre-diagnosis.
For months, every morning on the way to work, I would listen to that Don Williams song Lord, I Hope this Day is Good. That's all I was doing, hanging on a day at a time, hoping for the best.
I'd get home at night and be so exhausted I could barely move. Craig took over bath time for Hannah but I still got the first clean kiss afterwards. Mama took on laundry and most of the house work so I could spend my evenings playing with her. It wasn't the rough-housing we used to do because I would easily fall over and my left arm had very little strength left but I could play anything else she wanted! I still rocked her to sleep but once she was out, I was stuck in the rocking chair until someone happened to wander in to get her off of me. I tried hard to enjoy every moment I had with her.
I put off the spinal tap as long as possible after the holidays, always finding a reason to wait. Finally, the end of January, Hannah's 4th birthday behind us, I didn't have anything else to hide behind so I scheduled the appointment for mid-February.
I was so torn between wanting an answer and fearing the answer, feeling out of control but fearing the loss of control that it finally got too much and...
I. Had. To. Know.