Fine

Fine. One word with so many possible meanings which reveals such little information. I remember in my early teens my mother tried to ban the word from my vocabulary. She was tired of hearing "I'm fine," "It was fine," "She's fine."  She wanted details; she wanted to know more! Now, it seems the word I used to rely on causes me pain. What does it mean to be fine? Does it mean everything is good? That everything that should be is? Is it the opposite of bad? A step down from great? Who decides what fine is?

Yesterday I shared some cute photos of Anna we took in the pool over the weekend. A kind coworker who I know truly cares and means well said "See, I know she'll be just fine." The word stung. I found myself without a response. Does everyone know this but us and her doctors? I know it's hard for people to imagine that sometimes things don't work out like you hope. I have found that if a person hasn't experienced something or supported a close family member or friend through a similar experience, there is a tendency to resist the possibility of a less than favorable outcome.  Especially when babies are involved. Unfortunately, this tendency makes me feel very isolated, often. I understand that the persons assuring me Anna will be fine were not there when the doctors gave us heartbreaking news over and over again as Anna's brain injury progressed. I understand that they haven't poured over hours and hours of research that suggest what may lie ahead for us. I understand that they don't attend appointment after appointment, therapy session after therapy session, and lie awake at night wondering if that thing she did earlier was a sign of a greater problem. And we are just at the beginning of this journey!

It's not that I want to be a martyr. It's not that I want to wallow in self pity and negativity (not all the time at least.) I'm just tired of people telling me that they're sure Anna will be "fine." We already know that sometimes things are not fine. We have lost a child. We are not invincible. I want it acknowledged that our future is uncertain. I also want them to ooh and ahh over the beautiful, funny, amazing baby Anna is right now. A baby whose big smile and dimples bring tears to my eyes, and whose snuggles make me want to freeze one moment forever.

No, we don't know if Anna will be fine. We don't know anything! And neither does anyone else. I don't speak for all moms of babies with special needs, but right now the best thing you can do for me is marvel at the gorgeous baby I have now and tell me that she has the best parents and advocates she possibly could. Tell me that you know our hard work will help her reach her full potential, and that you wish good things for our future, which may or may not be fine!