Daughter of The King

Daughter of The King

Walking into a room of people is not something I enjoy,
especially when I’m alone. To combat my nervousness, when I had money during my
single years, I would almost always stop for a coffee or bring my own tumbler
from home. I liked having something to hold onto, and something to sip, which
made me feel like I was doing something. Now that I’m married with a family, we
don’t tend to spend much money on luxuries like coffee (other than our own
morning brew, of course). I’ve had to learn to enter a room full of people all
by myself.

Last year, at this exact time, I found myself in that
scenario. There was a big event going on in Fusion (the high school youth group
we work with at our church), and I brought the kids with me. They were 1 and 5
months old at the time. Basye had JUST gotten her helmet, so it was the first
public place I had taken her.
 
Her first scan. All results were sent to Boston Children’s Hospital. (The helmets are technically called The Boston Band.)

She was so little! My beautiful girl.
It was nerve wracking. As soon as people saw us coming, they
peeked into the double stroller to get a look at the kids. The awkward part is
that many adults didn’t say one word about Basye’s helmet. They just acted like
it was normal. On one hand, I get they were trying to be polite, but on the
other hand I wanted to just get it out in the open. I didn’t want her helmet to
be the elephant in the room, but I also didn’t want her helmet to be the main
center of conversation. I wanted to have her treated
normally, but I didn’t want people wondering what the helmet was all about
and not say anything.

One of the great things about teens is they tend to be blunt. Many
of them came up to me and said things straight up like, “Why is she wearing
that?” or “Is that helmet to protect her?” Those kind of questions were great
because I could explain what it was, and then the conversation could move on to
other things. If someone didn’t say anything, then it just felt like this
looming topic.

Overall, in the grand scope of life, people were very kind.
There were some horrific comments, which absolutely crushed me, but thankfully
Basye had no idea. She was blissfully unaware. However, I feel it could be
helpful to share publically, if you ever come across a baby in a helmet
there are some things you should know.
Her first fitting.

From Day 1, she never had any trouble sleeping with the helmet!
Don’t laugh at the baby. Don’t tell the Mother the baby
looks like a Sumo Wrestler. Don’t tell the Mother her baby looks like a
character from any sort of movie. Don’t avoid asking the obvious question- just
kindly inquire, “So what does he/she need the helmet for?” Don’t tell the
Mother you can barely see the baby’s eyes. Don’t ask the Mother every time you
see her, “When will he/she get that off?” Don’t complain to the Mother that YOU
never get to see what the baby “really looks like”.

Listen, I know people who said comments like that didn’t
intent to hurt me. I heard so many of those comments over and
over. It got really old, really fast. It’s extremely emotional to have your
infant have to wear a helmet 23 hours a day for almost an entire year. There is
a loss. A loss of what I had longed for. There was a grieving period when I had
to let go of some of my desires for the first year with my daughter. Snuggling
was very hard. I couldn’t feel her sweet head anymore. I couldn’t run my
fingers through her hair. I could only rub half of her little cheeks, but not
her forehead or the side of her face. I couldn’t be cheek to cheek with her. Or forehead to forehead.

Please hear me. OF COURSE there are a million things that could
be worse. There are a million Mothers who went through or are going through
things that are a lot worse. Listen, that doesn’t mean what I went through was
easy. Of course I’m thankful for her overall
health and well-being, but it was still tough.

The good news is, it got easier. Chuck, Jase, Basye, and I all got used to the helmet, and it became normal for us. I stopped feeling
so nervous walking into a room of people for the first time with her in the
helmet. People that knew us got used to it, too.

A few weeks ago I was sick, so Chuck took Basye to her
regular helmet appointment. When he came home, he her helmet was off. And just
like that, she graduated! Her two soft spots closed up, she got reports from
both the neurosurgeon and the specialist that her head was perfect! I could
hardly believe it. Then a couple weeks later, she graduated from the Early Intervention
program, which means she no longer needs physical therapy for her neck! After such a long,
emotional year- it all came to an end. I found myself feeling sad saying good-bye
to Basye’s physical therapist, and even cried when the case worker declared her
finished.

I am so thankful. The year Basye spent in her helmet and
doing physical therapy was all for her good. I’m thankful to live in a day when
things like Plagiocephaly and Torticollis can be treated very successfully. God
has overwhelmed us with His provision and goodness through it all. He has given
me a heart of compassion towards those who may look different. He has softened
my heart towards other Mothers who are going through/have gone through physical
difficulties with their children. He has opened my eyes to the incredible ways
He takes care of us- even in the midst of strange situations. He has also crossed
my path with countless beautiful and wonderful people who have served and
loved my baby girl. It has been a JOY to be around such loving and kind
professionals, and experience their care for my daughter. I thank God for so many
who have helped her. I thank God for healing Basye. I thank God for his tender,
loving care for her.

And now today, I thank God for providing yet another source
of healing and help for our girl. At 16 months old, she can now see cleary and
focused for the very first time! Thank you Jesus for providing glasses at just
the right time for our daughter- your daughter.
 
What are these things?!
I can see!
This girl is going to grow up knowing when she walks into a room she can be confidant- not because she has a round head or a straightened out neck or even because she can see, but because she is the Daughter of The King. The King who loves her with an intimate, personal, ever-lasting love. (And so do her Papa and Mama!) Shine for Jesus, sweet Basye, shine for Jesus.

3 thoughts on “Daughter of The King

  1. She is so precious Roomie! Thank you Jesus for all your care and provision and healing and the joy you bring in hard times and for dearest Basye!

    1. Great question, Mel! She isn't keeping them on yet, so it's an ordeal right now. I feel joy knowing how much they will help her once she wears them, though!

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