Your husband chased you away and his relatives backed him up. To the cold you went, with no hope of where to go or how to take care of your child. The nights were cold, yes, I could only imagine. You begged to ensure that your child never goes hungry. For months, the street was your home and yet not once did you think of abandoning your baby. I applaud you for your courage, your tenacity and love because many have flushed them down the toilet or garbage bin even without any physical disabilities. To every parent that struggles to take care of their special needs child, you are special. Many may not understand what it means to literally be awake all night and day, only stealing a few minutes to dose off but that is what you do. You worry if your child will make it through the night, you worry if a morsel of food will choke them. Then comes the frustrations with every report when they fail to hit a milestone despite the two of you working so hard to get there. That is not withstanding the expenses that come with diapers for those with children that cannot get themselves to the washrooms. Not even the insults that are thrown at you or your child without thinking about the pain you endure. That you endure all that and still hold your head up, you are amazing. Even if I got you sobbing, I would understand because the responsibility is immense. I wish I could make your burden lighter, I wish I could take over for a bit. I applaud you and only pray that God continues to give you grace to do what you do by that child. I actually pray that that child gets better.
The night is so dark, if not darker than you would have wanted to because as your child bounces between two worlds. You have been at this for such a long while and all you can pray for is that you can be finally given a clean bill of health. You have and continue to pray for that because your life depends on it. With every needle prick, you cringe as though it were going through you. The agony every blood transfusion has ripped your heart in pieces you have lost count of. Every relapse comes with a deep cry within you. You just cannot imagine life sipping out of your little one and yet that is the reality that glares before you. You long to hear them talk to you, play on your laps or laugh. But all you have seen is pain and discomfort. I see your pain, I would only lie if I said I understood it. But as you struggle through each moment, all I can promise you, that I can genuinely know I will do, is say a prayer for you. I will hold you in my heart, knowing that the Father surely hears and healing is coming your child’s way on angel’s wings. It seems like a myth, so unreal and yet all we need, but it is my continuous prayer that soon, very soon, you will walk out of there with your baby right beside you. And that you will never have to walk back but enjoy the company of your child and watch them grow devoid of the pain. For they have had more pain than many will ever bear in a life time.