It was my first mommy and me class ever. With one infant and a twenty something pound diaper bag. Finding parking unloading the stroller and getting in the door seemed like such a marathon endeavor.

But, I did it. Because in those first few weeks and months of officially being a mom it was the only way we got out of the house other than grocery shopping.

Then one week Clara showed up. Her mom put her down next to my son on the mat and unloaded her own overflowing diaper bag, when Clara glanced over through me more than at me with some of the bluest clearest eyes I have ever seen on a child.

Finally, her mom heaved herself down beside us with a sigh.

I forget who said what exactly but we exchanged hellos, names, and woeful stories of sleep deprivation. When Clara’s mom mentioned something about hoping the other babies would inspire Clara to meet or at least strive for some milestones.

And being the professional mom I was, at just few months into this new gig. With a kid who seemed determined to blow past every milestone while channeling the speed of Evel Knievel. I said, “Oh they all catch up eventually. By the time they get to high school no one is ever going to ask who crawled first.”

“I can only hope for so much,” was how she started her answer.

Because I was wrong. So, wrong.

See, the rest of her answer went into much detail of Clara’s condition known as Tuberous Sclerosis. A condition which leaves her body riddled with tumors, subject to seizures, mental retardation, and sometimes even skin lesions. Worst of all a ver shortened life span is likely.

In fact her first surgery was just minutes after her birth to clear the path for blood flow through her heart. It was already being partially obstructed before she was even born by one of the many tumors in her body just laying in wait.

I had no idea what to do from that moment on. There were so many things I wanted to say. But, after my epic misinterpretation of the situation initially I relegated myself to watching listening and asking questions only when it seemed necessary. And as carefully as I could at that.

As I did this, I quickly saw that Clara was not actually looking at anything but through everything. Her limbs seemed to fling themselves beyond her intended destination. And her mouth seemed more filled with drool than the coos and ahhs of an infant her age.

While my own son seemed to be just waiting for his moment to stand up do a back flip and give his first speech. It all felt so eternally unfair. Deep inside I craved answers for this baby and mom. Answers from her doctors, and answers from life, God, the universe.

But through it all. And by all I mean surgeries, drug treatments, therapy trials, studies, and much more. No answers ever came. At least not in the short time I knew this pair.

She never crawled, spoke, or gave us all any clue how she was doing in there. Inside that little body that seemed to be fighting against her.

Although, one day she did laugh. And, every time I saw those blue eyes I could not help but think of how much that little soul trapped inside this out of control body had to say.

In quiet personal kind of way, she inspired me.

To think of her. Remember her. Partly name my own daughter a similar name. And be grateful for even the most trying moments with my own healthy children.

Has a child ever inspired you?

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