My reason for living...

Yes, before you wonder, I am going to continue the therapy that I started in the hospital. I have been having a lot of "mad at the world" days lately. I'm angry that I'm in this chair, I'm angry that my daughter won't get to know her Nanny Pam, I'm angry that months of my life have been altered in ways I could never have imagined, I'm angry that I'm letting myself feel this way when I know that there is nothing that can be done about my physical state until I am completely healed. Mostly, I'm angry that I can't run around and play with Lily in the way that I should be. Everyone is doing a very good job of taking care of her, but no one can care for her the way that I would...simply because I'm her mommy.

But, when I watch her walk all over the place in her wide-legged baby gait, I am so grateful to be here. I have these moments-like today when I watched her walking around the deck at my parents' house with a flower clenched tightly in each fist-that I realize that I almost missed this. Just a slightly different angle of the SUV during the accident, or a wrong move by a doctor, or God simply deciding that now was my time and I would have missed her grow up. The scariest part of that is that she is so young now that she wouldn't have had any conscious memories of me.

So, in between my pity-party moments and rantings to my new therapist (poor lady!) I revel in the moments that Lily looks up at me and grins her still toothless grin.