I love being a mom. I love helping my daughter figure things out. I love cooking her dinner, especially when she writes, "Mom is the best chef!" on our chalkboard wall. Even though I hate doing math homework, I love it when she understands something I'm teaching her. I love all the little parts of the day that add up to mean I'm a parent. It's my job to teach and love and comfort and guide... and to protect.
That's when it gets scary. Protecting is my job. And I can't do it. You see, I have a breakable daughter. Ellie has a disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta, more commonly known as the Brittle Bone disease. It's genetic, and it has no cure. The form of the disease that Ellie has is very mild, and we've been very lucky. We've dealt with a total of 8-9 broken bones, which isn't that many compared to what others with OI have had to deal with. I try to protect her, and she knows her limits fairly well: no running or jumping or climbing. But there is no real protection. Yesterday, during her school choir practice, she broke her wrist. She broke it by picking up a chair. How do you protect your kid from chairs?!?!
This opens the door to all the things you could possibly be scared of for your child. If I can't protect my daughter from a chair, how will I protect her from anything? Mean kids, creepy men, kidnappers, boys trying something, anything?! I. am. helpless. And I feel like this all over again, each time it happens. Each time, I have learn again, that I was never the One in control, and I never will be.
Oh, by the way, you can learn about OI and donate to fund research for a cure here.
