How do you measure that? How do you quantify what she has done for us? Whatever she's being paid, it should be tripled. And then tripled again.
During dark days and quiet days and lonely days and frustrating days and days on end of no contact with any adult other than my husband, she was a bright spot for me. She was something different to spice the weeks up when J and I were under house arrest and we only saw each other.
How can I explain to someone who hasn't had a special needs child what it means for someone to be a lifeline for you? What words define what someone means to you when she's encouraged your child to goals you weren't sure were possible?
Some days when I miss teaching, when I miss writing, when I miss feeling like I'm making a small difference in the world, I think of people like our pt. Whatever I've done to help people is nothing. Nothing. I have been witness to real heroes, and I'm not one of them. I wish I'd excelled at science so I could have been a physical therapist or a NICU nurse. These are the people who on a daily basis affect real change on the world around them.
We are only one family of dozens and dozens our pt helps. My children are just two of hundreds she has helped. I know it must be stressful at times working with babies and children who struggle just to hold objects, roll over, and sit. But, I hope that she can rest her head easy at night knowing that her life's work is so meaningful.
It isn't a permanent goodbye yet. We are following our pt to her new job at a clinic, and we'll hopefully keep seeing her until we move. But, our weeks won't be quite the same once she's no longer visiting our home. I will miss her tremendously.
Life with preemies is unexpected. And unexpectedly hard. But also unexpectedly wonderful. I wouldn't trade all the hard because the good is so good. And it's people like our pt who have made it so.
Thank you. Thank you. Thank you, K.