It all started with a nondescript email that grabbed my attention. Just two words in the subject line hinted at a peek into my daughter’s world. Curiosity piqued, I opened the email titled “Progress Report” and quickly skimmed through the message from her preschool teacher.
As I read, I felt tears welling up as I sipped my coffee. My heart ached as memories of my daughter’s premature birth flooded my mind.
The progress report had a lot of positives. My little one, Emma, is a bundle of kindness, praised for her compassion towards classmates. However, one line hit me like a deflated balloon: “Sometimes we are unsure if Emma understands what we are asking of her. However, if we wait for a moment and guide her accordingly, she does just fine.”
It might seem trivial, but for parents of preemies, such comments carry heavy weight. Emma is our sole surviving triplet, born a micro-preemie teetering on the edge of viability. Now at 3 years old, she has navigated more doctors and therapists than most people do in a lifetime. Just recently, she graduated from physical, speech, and occupational therapy, and now she’s off to preschool — a milestone we once thought was a distant dream.
Despite all her triumphs, I still see her struggles. Her speech therapists believe she has apraxia, a motor speech disorder. Emma’s brilliant mind grasps concepts easily, but articulating them is a different story.
The other day, we were chatting with a boy when Emma started speaking, only to be met with confusion as he asked, “What is wrong with her? Why does she keep saying the same thing?” I didn’t rush her. Instead, I smiled patiently, waiting for her words to catch up with her thoughts.
While many toddlers face communication challenges, this progress report served as a stark reminder that we’re still on a long path. Emma’s physical issues may be behind her, but she may encounter invisible hurdles down the line. Given her history of a brain bleed and an early birth over 17 weeks premature, the odds suggest she could face challenges in school, and that breaks my heart.
Emma didn’t sign up for these obstacles. As a parent of a preemie, I swing between frustration and guilt. Watching your child struggle can sting unexpectedly, that lump in your throat appearing out of nowhere.
Yet, as that pain surfaces, it dissipates when I reflect on all that Emma has achieved. When we welcomed our 1-pound miracle, her chances of survival were less than 10%. Now, she’s defying every statistic against her.
Emma is perfect in her uniquely special way. Each small hurdle she overcomes adds to her individuality, and witnessing her resilience is nothing short of breathtaking.
As the words of the progress report settled in, I took a deep breath and wiped away my tears. Life throws different challenges our way, some heavier than others. But with her determination and sunny disposition, I know my daughter is destined to soar in the years ahead.
There’s no telling where her journey will lead, but I’m confident she won’t let anything stand in her way. For more insights on navigating the world of parenting and insemination, check out these terms and conditions from our other blog posts. And if you’re curious about home insemination, BabyMaker at Home Insemination Kit is a trusted resource. Additionally, for those seeking information on fertility insurance, UCSF’s fertility insurance FAQ is an excellent guide.
In summary, while my daughter’s preschool progress report brought forth a wave of emotions, it also highlighted her incredible journey. We’re not out of the woods yet, but with perseverance and love, I have no doubt she’ll continue to thrive.