Dear Daughter

My dearest darling daughter, the light of my life

Writing a letter to you isn’t hard, far from it. I scribble little notes to you all the time. I talk to you all the time. You are my constant companion and my very best friend. But you are only nine years old.

You are so grown up, in so many ways. You are so clever, so talented and just really cool! You are empathetic and kind, and you are hilariously, uproariously funny. But you are only nine years old!

I vowed to always answer any of your questions honestly, and I meant it. I will tell you whatever it is you want to know, always using language appropriate for your age at the time of asking. I swore I would never lie to you, never fob you off, and I think I have done pretty well on this promise. But you are only nine years old.

Your questions are becoming more insightful now, you are more curious, you want to know everything. 

Why does Mom need to have yet another doctor’s appointment?

Why does Mom have to have an MRI?

Why does Mom have a cannula in her arm?

Why can’t Mom sleep for a week.

The simple answers won’t suffice anymore. You have asked me what MS is, lots of times, and lots of times I have explained to you that -Everyone has these things called nerves, and sometimes my body attacks mine. Nerves are like the charging cable for my phone and your tablet, once the wire gets frayed, the electricity can’t get through to charge it. Sometimes Dad can fix a charging cable and sometimes my nerves learn to behave again, or my body adapts. But not every frayed cable can be fixed.

These answers to your questions and the books we have looked at together have helped. For now, you are happy that I am happy and that will do! I know this isn’t the end of your questions, and nor should it be. Someday you will ask me why, and I won’t have that answer. Someday you will ask me what the future will look like, and I won’t have that answer either. But for a Mom who “knows everything”, I know enough to be honest with you. I will tell you that no one knows what the future will look like. No one knows why. And we don’t need to. All we need is each other!

But for now, you are nine years old. And I can still answer your questions. And I promise I always will, honestly.

Love always,

Mom