But this morning I am thinking about a girl I grew up with who is now very successful both as a parent and in her professional life.  I asked her about how her role as a parent of a child with a disability changed her, and she said it made her feel more empowered.  More Empowered.  I like to think this through from time to time and I have to say I whole heartily agree.  Being the parent of a child with a physical disability has made me feel powerful.  Not powerful in the way of “I can change her or fix  her,” but powerful on a whole different level.

I feel strong.  Inside I feel capable and strong and calm.  I feel like I was given a mountain to climb and I accomplished it.  I struggled a bit through certain stages, but I have made it to the top.  I have come to a point of acceptance and of saying, “Wow, I am a damn lucky girl” to have this child and this life.  It is full and challenging, and exciting, and perfect.  I feel powerful on the outside too.  Like the physical task of this life, with its wheelchairs and transfers and child lifting, have not taken me down.  I wake up and I can do it most days.  I can help her to the bathroom and out of bed, I can take her to get a Christmas manicure and to visit an aunt on her birthday,  I can do it.  

I feel empowered from the little things in life.  Those things that you know are not really that important in the grand scheme of things.  Even if they side line me for a minute, they do not totally take me down.  I am strong.  I have managed to get my daughter, and my other children, through this year.  Through a terrible surgery and recovery that has lasted seven months.  To school every day, and to games, and to play dates and parties, and to see them through homework and therapies and let downs and struggles of their own.  I am strong, and I am powerful.

Granted I have not always felt this way on this journey of disability.  But right now, today, I can say that I am empowered and I am strong.