A sassy, crafty mama bird from Los Angeles
raising a very sweet little girl with Autism
and a new baby boy in the Midwest... and other stuff, too.

Thursday, August 4, 2011

Want a date?

So, I have this thing about dates. I remember them. Not just birthdays, but also dates on which something significant happened (hey mommy, remember when I had the stomach flu on December 23, 1989?!). Scratch that, truth is, I remember some shit that has no significance at all. Big Daddy, does this remind you of anyone?

When it comes to Little Bird, I'm basically a walking database of her journey. Recently, someone saw the giant effing sweet little scar on her upper thigh and asked me what that was from. "Oh, that? August 29th 2008 muscle biopsy testing for Muscular Dystrophy and Mitochondrial Disease." Creepy, right?

Well, this is all coming up for me because yesterday was August 3rd. Six years ago on that day was our very first visit to our very first specialist, a neurologist. He was supposed to be the hospital's head of pediatric neurology. Oh, also, he was the hospital's only pediatric neurologist.

I was so sure that Little Bird's pediatrician was totally overreacting to the fact that she couldn't roll over or hold her head up at 6 months. The look on the neurologist's face told a different story. I mean, I guess it did. I couldn't tell because I just kept staring at his terrible hair plugs. Oooohhh, also on the way to that appointment, someone hit my car. That was an awesome day (ed note: that was not an awesome day).

That day was the beginning of our special needs journey. The first time anyone ever confirmed that something wasn't as perfect as I thought with my little baby bird. 

Cut to August 3rd 2011: the only significant thing that happened on this date was I got rainbow sprinkles on my frozen yogurt. And that's the way I like it. 


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