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This morning my husband and I sat with a group of teachers, therapists, and administrators listening to individual reports measuring my daughter’s abilities and weighing resources to best facilitate her academic needs. Throughout the meeting I felt my daughter’s toothless smile peeking between the endless pages of documentation.

As I make peace with uncomfortable labels I keep returning to the image of my daughter quietly asking me to look beyond the words and read this moment truthfully, wholeheartedly embracing her story authentically. To do this I must acknowledge my own truths. In a personal note to a close friend I shared dark words of shame: There is a part of me that wants to block this piece out, pretend it away. 

The question is which part of my daughter would I wish away? There is no singular gift that is not, in part, tied to her challenges. Her sense of compassion for others fostered in an appreciation for challenges; her patience born of tolerance for differences; her creativity a lovely substitute for more conventional forms of expression. Which beautiful piece of her spirit would I trade for a simpler path?

Would I trade her ability to hear birds sing or see the sunset for the ability to memorize math facts? Could I trade the sight of her chasing fireflies or painting a daydream for a mastery of sight words? I cannot separate pieces of my daughter and still see her completely.

These challenges are part of her story and I am her witness. At the end of this journey I will know how difficult her path was and the effort it took to reach her goals. Instead of wishing away this moment, I am trying to honor my daughter.

Tagged: Daughter, Musings, School