We got the diagnosis of Cerebral Palsy when Lelia was 18 months. I was really happy, as we didn’t know what was wrong with her before then. She had low tone. She couldn’t roll over. She couldn’t sit up. Of course she didn’t walk. The diagnosis gave it a name, something I could work with, and I became a kind of vigilante mother, determined to get the best care for my daughter.

My boys were exactly the same amazing, lovable, adorable, brilliant little boys after the diagnosis, that they had been before it. The exact same.

Saturdays were special as a kid growing up in Port Washington, New York. Saturdays meant Burger King outings with my grandparents, a great big slice of trade-marked Hershey’s chocolate pie for me and piping hot oatmeal for them. And we can’t forget about the Kids Meal toys. But on this particular Saturday, everything was different - at the tender age of five, I started to notice that certain aspects of my life were just off.

I don’t know if this is just me, but my time in quarantine has made me have weird flashbacks to my childhood. As a kid growing up with CP, especially with a speech impediment and mobility limitations, my lifeline to making and keeping friends was through AIM (AOL Instant Messenger, for those of you who are too young to remember) and one of the first video chatting platforms, ooVoo. Fast forward 15 years, many of us are in a similar situation. To slow the spread of COVID-19, most of life has moved online, including friendships.

Owen is our third baby and after a healthy pregnancy and making it to 38 weeks, I thought we would coast into life with three kids and adapt to the beautiful chaos that is life outnumbered by little ones. Somewhere in between, I ended up watching as my newborn baby was packed up into a life-flight helicopter and whisked away before I even got a chance to hold him. I would do whatever it took to get to Owen at Nationwide Children’s Hospital, I would will him from hundreds of miles away to hang on, to fight long enough for me to get there – and then we could do “whatever it took” together.

What we learned from our defensive lifestyle is that it’s normal to feel this way. It is a lot of information to process all at once and it’s an emotional rollercoaster immediately following a CP diagnosis. We realized that our diagnosis wasn’t what defined our child. She is an amazing little girl who is full of personality, she isn’t a fragile flower that needs to be sheltered, and by realizing this we were able to go on the offensive, and attack the challenges head on.