It’s been 6 months since we had a doctor tell us that our daughter was mentally retarded. What a long six months it has been. We’ve been to the Children’s Hospital here in Singapore countless times, we’ve been back to the US to see specialists there, we’ve looked at schools and therapies for Edda. We considered moving back to the states, we’ve been confused by different doctors and missing test results. How quickly the six months has passed as well.
Many people have talked to me about grief and crying. I have found myself crying many times in the past 6 months, most often in the middle of the night when the house is quiet and everthing is dark. It is then I don’t have shrug my fears aside and the magnitude of Edda’s disabilities sometimes overwhelms me.
Since my dad has been here, I’ve left Edda at home a few times so I could visit friends with Vince. My dad is great with Edda, in the afternoons, she needs to nap and eat frequently. I hate to admit it, the visits were easy with just Vince to manage. Vince does have his own issues (don’t think he is an angel every moment), but Edda is unpredictable with her moods and awkward in strange places and when she is pissed, it is often hard to console her or figure out what she wants. Each time I left Edda behind, Vince asked why she wasn’t coming. I felt bad for leaving her behind. I know in the future, our family will be splitting up trips and activities. This is almost what pains me the most, that we can’t do absolutely everything that I thought we would be able to do together, but perhaps this is an unattainable fantasy for even completely non-disabled families.