Fourteen years ago, a vibrant baby girl with a cascade of dark hair entered our lives. Her cries were so powerful that when we shared her name with the doctor, he remarked, “Such a loud little girl deserves a more lively name than that.”
Just six weeks later, while holding my daughter, an overwhelming sense of dread washed over me. It was an intense feeling that began in my heart and settled in the pit of my stomach. She wasn’t making eye contact, and that small detail triggered a deep intuition that something was profoundly amiss with my otherwise perfect child.
From that moment onward, our lives transformed significantly.
I often wish I could reach back in time and reassure the anxious mother I was then. Here is a message I would have wanted on that challenging day: