THIS IS A MUST READ
I have a friend, Tiffany, that I have known since I was 13. We are exactly one month apart. I am older than her for 30 days every year. We have walked through most of our lives together, even the “missing years” have all been caught up and it’s like there was never an absence. We’ve shared first loves & first heartaches, the joys of marriage, the heartache of miscarriage, shopping days, pedicures, the passing of grandparents, failures, scary times, times we got in trouble together, times we should have gotten in trouble together, and we can sincerely JOY in each other’s successes. No pretenses. No expectations. Complete, total and unconditional transparency. We are kindred spirits and I.LOVE.HER.
She had her first and perhaps only child last December, a miracle baby after waiting for about a decade for him. G is the most precious baby. A bundle of happy.
But back in the summer, she faced her first hard time as a parent when G had to be treated for plagiocephaly, which is when a baby’s head is flattened on either the top or the side. The treatment is rather inevasive – the wearing of a band, or what I all too often crudely referred to as a “helmet”, to protect and reshape his head.
Now, while that may not be the scariest infant disorder/condition, those of us with children understand the fear and the ache that takes place when our children have to go through anything. And when it’s a child you have waited for, wept for and prayed for nearly a decade, it’s just simply hard to deal with. It broke my heart that G had to wear this band and had to have something “corrected.” But it broke my heart for Tiffany knowing she would ache because this was happening to her baby. She has let me walk this road with her, taking every step, every update, every frustration in stride. We, together, counted down the days G could take his band off forever.
Monday was that day. Band off. Life good. G perfect, as usual. A victory. And something they could put behind them.
I smiled when I looked at my phone and saw a text from her expecting to see a pic of G without his band. But instead, this is what I read:
“I meant to tell you this Saturday — as I have been counting down to today and thanking God we have only had to deal with G’s band for 3 months that I also am praying for the day that you (and all d-moms) can count down to that last insulin shot . . . ”
Ok, d-moms. Go get a kleenex . . . I’ll wait.
Is she the absolute most amazing friend ever?!?! Isn’t that all we ever want, just someone who doesn’t live the life to somehow “get it”?
No, I am NOT sharing her either. She’s MY friend.
And I’m praying for that day too. Hoping. Believing.
And when that day comes, as we do all events in our life, BIG and small, one of the people I will be celebrating with is Tiffany.