The Rainbow Inside Her

I sobbed uncontrollably when a developmental pediatrician told me our 6-year old daughter may never go to college. In front of a nursing student, the doctor told me it was okay to mourn the loss of the child we thought we would have. She then advised me to consider genetic testing if we were going to have more children. If I had my wits about me, I would have said, “Why? To ensure that we do not have another child like her? How dare you!”

After a minor mêlée with depression, I picked myself up and did what any over-educated parent would do – got a second opinion.

As the impressive pediatric neurologist from Johns Hopkins walked in the room, I guiltily hoped this doctor would disagree with that heartless pediatrician, tell me our child would outgrow all challenges, and successfully graduate from college one day. Instead he said the following, “If I could predict the future, then I would quit my job and go on Oprah.” Oddly, this ambivalent and noncommittal comment gave me hope.

Yet, the depression arrived again, but this time it was not because I worried about our child’s future. This time it was because I had allowed my intellectual prejudices to define and limit her happiness by academic victory alone.

Our daughter did not talk until she was four because she had an expressive and receptive language disorder, yet she is now a voracious reader and a competent speller. She has a processing disorder, and yet she can play the piano and do long division. These remarkable successes impress me as I watch her overcome significant cognitive challenges that are out of her control.

However, what inspires me the most about our daughter is the kaleidoscope of colors that radiate from her soul. She befriends and hugs the watermelons in our garden. She sings to narrate her daily activities, and the melodies are rhythmic and jubilant. She remembers everyone’s birthday because it is a joyous occasion for them. Typically, she accepts the big stuff in life casually and the little stuff intensely.

The rainbow inside our daughter brings me pleasure and joy, but sadly, it does not sufficiently remove my fears about her future. What I have discovered and will rediscover as our journey continues is that our daughter carries hope, faith, and courage inside her; they are the rays of her rainbow heart.

And I need to remove the labels from my mind and support her imaginative spirit and prevent the world (and myself) from inhibiting and restructuring her variegated path. E.E. Cummings said that “it takes courage to grow up and become who you really are,” and I must give her the sun and rain to do so.