Dear Stroke...

I wanted to take a moment and thank you. I know this is not the response you usually get, especially from a mom whose child you have so greatly affected. But you see, we now have a different view of life because of you.

Even though I thank you for changing our life outlook, I still hate you. My hate began the day you reeked havoc on little Lily Pad's brain, running rampant in her head, exploding and consuming her thoughts, motor skills, and language capacity. I am sure you thought yourself quite successful at blocking her CSF fluid with a myriad of blood clots and enlarging her brain ventricles. What a big pat on the back you must have given yourself as the doctors told us she would never live or, if she did, she would not have much quality of life.

Perhaps you chuckled at her two shunt surgeries as she endured having her head shaved each time, her scalp opened up, and a tube placed inside her brain. And that curve ball of a shunt infection? That was quite the cheap shot on your part. My hate truly reached a high point then as I watched her lay motionless in a bed for two weeks with a tube running out of her head. That tube deposited her brain fluid into a bag at her bedside. Did you know that, Stroke? I truly thought she would die then. I've never seen her that close to death and it was awful. So awful I had a mental breakdown in the waiting room.


In the months that followed, my hate grew as I watched her struggle to hold her head up, push herself up with her arms, and roll over. And it took Lily until she was 14 months old to crawl. TO CRAWL! At an age when most children are climbing on the furniture, my child could just barely maneuver. And that battle was not easily won either. Her father and I had listen to her scream and cry and fight with the physical therapists and us. But she beat you then and her fight was not over!

And while we celebrated Lily Pad's second birthday with cake and balloons and friends, my hate boiled. She still could not walk on her second birthday. But everyday we got up and we helped her fight you with developmental therapy and AFOs and physical therapy and kinesio tape and stretches and workouts. It took five therapy sessions a week for nine months, but she won and you lost. What was considered a victory for Stroke would soon become a triumph for Lily Pad when she walked just one short month after that birthday party.

Do you remember all that brain matter you consumed? It has grown back and flourished and rewired itself, healed itself, and dissolved your blood clots. All the destruction has been undone. Her ventricles are normal and her shunt works great. She walks. She talks. She dances. She runs. She loves. She won.

I realize I started saying thank you Stroke and much of my letter to you has been rather negative, but of all the things you have done to us, the most influential impact is how we see life. Because of you I KNOW that my God performs miracles. Each day Lily Pad wakes up is a blessing and I cherish each moment I have with her. The milestones that most moms get to celebrate with their children are extra valuable to us because ours are hard-fought and hard-won, after months of therapy and determination.

Sure, you still affect us. Lily Pad could start having seizures at any time with no warning. She may always be limited in her motor skills. She may be learning disabled. And, God forbid, she may have more of you, Stroke, in her future. We are promised nothing, but this lack of certainty has only made us more humble and appreciative of the little victories.

And we are not worried about the obstacles we still face or the ones we have yet to encounter because as history has proven, Stroke, you will NOT be victorious. Lily Pad will beat you every time and we will NOT give up!