You see that girl right there? That’s my now 9 year-old Sugarplum.
She was my baby who screamed what felt like all day. The one who didn’t want to sit down, was constantly wiggling out of any chair we put her in, no matter how tight the straps were. Because we didn’t know she was in pain.
She was my kid who pulled to stand at barely 6 months old. The one who side-stepped around furniture as a tiny little baby.
She was also the one who couldn’t balance her weight to stand freely. The one who wouldn’t push toys around like her big sister had done. Because she was the one who, at 9 months, dragged her right leg when she walked.
This:
is that same girl taking her first independent steps.
And that’s a mommy who cried. Cried in relief that she’d finally done it.
The same mommy who had cried when the Irish doctor at Sugarplum’s 9 month well check dismissed her concerns saying “she’s very young, if she’s still not walking by 18 months we’ll look into it.” The mommy who desperately wished she was back in Florida where she could get real help for her daughter but never made it because that picture happened first.
That mommy didn’t know then, though, that it would be many more months before that girl would walk independently all the time. And she had no idea where the next 8 years would take them.
Because at three years old, that little girl started gymnastics.
And three years after that, she began competing.
And now, another three years on, she’s the youngest optional level gymnast on her team.
Because even though that girl didn’t do so well last competition season and didn’t get her move-up score until her state competition, she never gave up. She never has.
And even though a few months ago her coaches weren’t sure she was ready to make the jump from level 4 to 6, from compulsories to optionals, she showed up and worked hard all summer.
Until last Friday, she, and her entire team, took on level 5 and all got their required move-up scores on the first try.
And that mommy cried, again. She cried in relief. She cried as the stress of the past few months lifted off her shoulders. Because carrying the weight of your child’s struggles and dreams, and sometimes feeling like you’re the only one who gets it, is exhausting.
